For Every Rick a Season
by Sillycritter
Summary: Rick's never been a good role model for his grandkids. Now he might be their only hope. And that's not really a good thing either. ***{SPOILERS}: for Episode # 1x6: "Rick Potion No. 9" and Episode#1x8, "Rixty Minutes"
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty". It's the brainchild of one Dan Harmon

and Justin Roiland, et. al.

 **Author's Note:** This take place post-Chronenbourg (Season 1, Episode 6, "Rick Potion No.9")

To everything: turn turn turn

There is a season: turn turn turn

And a time for every purpose under heaven.

"Turn! Turn! Turn!" by Pete Seeger, inspired by he _Book of Ecclesiastes_ , 3:1-8

It was a typical Friday night in the Smith family household: Summer in her bedroom, Rick in the garage, Morty in the den, and Beth and Jerry were out attempting what they liked to call "dating again".

Nobody expected a knock on the front door around 8pm.

It was Morty who answered it. He opened the door to find two police officers, one a tall black male and the other a short caucasian. Their faces were incredibly grim looking and it couldn't be good news. Morty had never spoken to a cop before and immediately thoughts of all the horrible things he'd done on any one of his and Rick's adventures flashed through his mind: smuggling Megaseeds, killing Intergalactic Federal Agents in an attempt to escape...he gaped up at the two cops and found himself unable to speak.

Thankfully the male cop spoke first, and kneeled down in an effort to be less intimidating, held his hand out to Morty, "Hi...My name is Officer Jackson. No need to be afraid lil' buddy," he said with an expression that betrayed his smile. "What's your name there, kid?"

Morty shivered against the cold and shrunk back a bit behin the doorframe, "M-Morty."

The cop inched a bit closer, nodding with encouragement, "Hi there Morty. Are you the only one home?"

Morty was about to answer when suddenly he was pushed abruptly aside with and Rick was in front of the cops in a flash. "I'm Rick. What URP can I do for you officers? Hope you were using some good scare tactics on the kid here," Rick greeted the two with aplomb before adding in a conspiratorial voice towards the Officer Jackson, "he's pretty, ya know, rebellious; a bad seed….staying up past his bedtime, getting in with the wrong crowds, you know how kids are at his age-"

"RICK!" Morty shouted, appalled, fists clenched with rage and face reddening with embarrassment, glowering fiercely at his grandpa.

"See? What'd I tell ya?" Rick rolled his eyes, "talking back already….kids these days!"

The two cops exchanged confused looks before the female officer stepped forward, "Um, Sir. Are you related to a Mr. Jerry Smith?"

"Unfortunately yes," Rick shrugged as he leaned indifferently against the doorframe, "he's my daughter's insufferably idiotic husband-who-let me guess-got himself in some real big doodoo, am I right? Biiiiig surprise! _TYPICAL_ Jerry." Rick snorted and shook his head in disgust.

"Are Mom and Dad okay?" Morty piped up worriedly from behind.

"Morty-this is grown-up stuff," Rick abruptly shooed him inside, "go inside and do kid things, okay?"

"No!" Morty insisted, struggling against Rick's shoving arms, "I want to know what's going on!"

"Actually, kid," Officer Jackson inserted himself into the argument, "your grandpa here-" (Rick snorted with irritation at the title) "is right...we need to talk with him, uh, alone...why don't you find something to do and your grandpa can tell you more later…." Rick couldn't help but notice that the male cop-a huge guy, about 5'9, well built, could easily take anyone out in a fight, was….sweating. On a chilly November night. "Sir? Can we talk to you inside for a bit, please?"

Rick didn't like the sound of this. Jerry must have really fucked up big time. Figures.

Meanwhile, Morty was being a little piss-ant as usual. "I'm NOT leaving Rick!" The kid was standing right in their way, scowling with a pout like a petulant little child, his arms crossed in a huff.

The cops just stood there, watching, waiting for Rick to take charge. To do something…..adult. He detested being adult. The cops' eyes were on his back, watching his every move. His fingers ached to reach for the flask in his pocket, just waiting to be drunk. Rick knew Morty was worried but the kid would simply have to wait. "Morty stop being a little…" He swallowed the words that would have usually flown out of his mouth, and said calmly, "Just, get outta my hair for a while, alright? I gotta take, take care of this here, uh, bus, business."

Morty gaped up at Rick, eyes narrowed in a mixture of disgust and suspicion, but Rick simply crossed his arms and nodded in the direction of the doorway. Morty scowled up at Rick. "Since when do _you_ listen to people like cops, anyway?" he snapped, before turning at once on his heels and stalking off in frustration.

"He's, just, ya know, uh….getting a little too uh, cocky for his own good," Rick found himself apologizing on Morty's behalf. Surprising himself-because, since when did he care what anyone thought, least of all law enforcement? It was one of the few times that Morty was right (not that he'd let Morty know he was, course).

"Sir," said Officer Jackson as they went into the living room.

"Rick," Rick insisted, "just plain Rick."

"This is my partner Office O'Shea," said Officer Jackson, addressing the short white woman with the huge nose and too much mascara and lipstick at his side, "we need to talk to you about Mr and Mrs. Smith…"

"What did Jerry do this time?" Rick rolled his eyes. What a perfect ending to a perfect evening. His high-pressure power suits weren't functioning as planned, and now he had to bail Jerry and his daughter out of jail. "This guy….he's, he's a real catch, ya know? Don't know what Beth was thinking, the man is totally beneath her, he's a cesspool of human DNA, he's just about as dumb as they come, I- I guess the sex was off the charts or, or something-"

"Sir...uh…." Officer Jackson coughed and removed his hat, leaning forward, "please listen...this is very serious."

There was no mistaking the seriousness in the officer's tone, and Rick paused mid-sentence and locked eyes with the cop, trying to decipher the expression. What he saw made him pause even further, because he saw what he could only describe as apprehension….and for a cop to be apprehensive at all was cause for concern.

Rick stared between the two cops. They both looked like they'd been through the wringer; completely exhausted. Spent. He'd never seen two more grim looking cops. Something clicked: whatever had happened, it was bad...and there was not going to be a simple fix for this one, unless he could work up some serious mojo. Rick held his breath and simply waited for the other shoe to drop.

And drop it did….

….right into the pit of his stomach.

"Sir...there was a three-car crash about an hour ago on Rt. 23. Does your daughter drive a station wagon with the lisence plate RC137?"

Rick froze that the mention. Those were the letters and numbers he'd chosen specifically for Beth's licence plate. They were the first letter of his first name, followed by the coordinates of his previous Earth dimension. He would know it anywhere. "What hospital are they at?" Rick asked dryly. He didn't take his eyes off of the cop that was talking.

"Sir, there's-something we need to tell you. There is no easy way to say this." Officer O'Shea spoke this time, and with the gentle caution that one has with speaking with a frightened child. Rick blinked with a rare moment of confusion; why was she talking to him this way? He wasn't a child, and he wasn't frightened. He wasn't anything really. He was just, well... _there._

There, and listening to the cop as she put her hand on his arm. The moment she rested her hand on his arm, Rick abruptly stood up and brushed the hand away. He despised physical affection and there was no way this cop was going to pretend touching him would make things "okay".

"Sir," said Officer O'Shea, "When we arrived on the scene…" She took a deep breath and glanced sideways at her parnter for assistance. Rick's heart beat faster in spite of his reserve to remain still.

"...We didn't find any survivors," Officer Jackson finished.

Rick stared at the officer. His words didn't make any sense. They didn't even sound like English.

 _We didn't find_

 _any_

 _didn't ….We_

 _didn't_

 _find any_

 _we didn't_

 _find_

 _any_

 _survivors._

"I'm so sorry to have to tell you-" Officer O'Shea began but Rick cut her off, swinging around and heading abruptly into the kitchen.

"You guys want a beer? I've got plenty of the good stuff here in the URP fridge…"

"Sir-I'm not sure if you heard us right," Officer Jackson stood then, calling across the kitchen, "Please come back and sit down-"

" _Reeeal_ good stuff," Rick continued from over his shoulder, "Can't find any of _these_ babies in this pathetic excuse of a dim- dimension-"

"Sir?" Officer Jackson was now standing halfway between the living room and the kitchen, his voice tinged with concern, "We really need you to stay focused for us, um, here-"

"What's your poison?" Rick interrupted, "Malphorp's Brew? Scalewonker's Lager?"

"Sir-"

"I got 'em all, officers! Take your pick!" Rick had whipped around to face them both, holding several different colorful bottles of beer in his hands.

"SIR! Would you PLEASE just come back over here, and _listen_ to us!" Officer Jackson was slowly losing his composure, and Officer O'Shea had joined him in the kitchen, "We just need to you to come and SIT DOWN with us. PLEASE!"

"Well, guess that's all the more for me," Rick shrugged as he snatched two beers and chugged from one heavily, while the two cops looked on in complete dismay.

"Sir…." Somehow, Officer O'Shea's arm was touching him again and Rick spun around and stopped her in her tracks with a glare,

"So- soorrry babe," Rick slurred as he purposefully dribbled drool on her uniform shirt, "but, you, you're just not my type…"

"SIR!" Officer Jackson had taken him by the shoulders in a meager attempt at steering him back towards the couch. "SIT!" Officer Jackson pointed down at the couch, and, frowning in between chugs, Rick abruptly sat, practically falling off in the process.

"Sir," Officer O'Shea whispered, "please...pull yourself together! There's a child here-"

"Ah, M-Morty caann handle himssself, he's, he's ah, a good kid," Rick slurred with abandon.

"Grandpa Rick?" _OHhhh shit. Summer._

Summer had been listening in on the stairs. Now more than a little curious (and more curious than afraid), she made her way cautiously towards the two policemen and her, now, even-more-than-usual overly-intoxicated grandfather.

"Hi there, sweetheart," Officer Jackson stood and addressed Summer gently, "who are you?"

"That's URP SUGHmer," Rick blurted out before Summer could get a chance to get a word in edgewise. "THUGH daughter."

"You're Morty's sister then," Officer O'Shea nodded in acknowledgment.

"R-real sm-smarty pants over here, this, this one," Rick quipped, to which Officer O'Shea quickly turned and glared him into a stupified silence.

"Grandpa Rick?" Summer said, glancing worriedly between the adults, her voice filled with a rightful concern, "What...what's going on?"

"BaUD news, Summer," Rick belched noisily, "your paRUNTS are dead."

The words hung in the air like the eye of a storm. The two officers were staring at Rick in shock, as was Summer, who wasn't even sure she'd heard what she'd thought. _Summer, your parents are dead._ She had to be hearing things. No way had Rick just said those words. "Rick," Summer finally managed to utter, her voice shaking horribly in spite of herself, "What….did you just say?"

"Sweety," Officer O'Shea took Summer by the hand, and Summer, stunned, let herself be led. They sat her down on the chair across from Rick, the La-Z-Boy chair that her Dad always loved to sit in and watch TV.

"What's...what's going on?" Summer couldn't even recognize her own voice at this point. It sounded small and incredibly weak. Like a child's. "Where's...Mom and Dad…?"

"We don't want to have to tell you this, honey," the female officer said, "but...your parents were in a very bad car accident….they…." Officer O'Shea reached across and grasped Summer's hands, and Summer found that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't let go, "they….didn't make it," the Officer told her.

Summer stared at the Officer sitting across from her.

She saw the Officer's mouth moving.

Sound was coming out.

No noise followed.

Then everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

 **Author's Note:** So, this is gonna be pretty intense. It was painful to write. Hope you're ready for it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first thing Summer heard were the voices.

"Sir, please, back away, let's get her sitting up."

"FigURghs she'd be like this. Always been a littUL drama queen-"

 _Fuck you Rick. Fuck you._ God, she wished she had the strength to slap him.

"SIR!" The male cop this time, and he sounded more than a little annoyed. "That's no way to talk right now! Your granddaughter is….in shock. Back away! She's trying to sit up."

Next thing she knew a cup of water was held in front of her face. She couldn't drink it; if she did she would surely puke all over the floor. Summer profusely shook her head, her lips held tightly in one place. The room was spinning like a carousel out of control and all she could see in her mind's eye was Rick staring drunkenly at her, like he'd seen a ghost, and proclaiming the unthinkable. _It simply wasn't true._

And those were the first words that fell from her trembling lips: "It's….not true, right?" Summer's words echoed in her own head, as she stared up pleadingly with the two cops standing standing hovered above her, looking at her with the kind of sympathy you only gave to someone when a person they loved-

No. Summer couldn't think it. She wouldn't dare.

"HaUGHt to break it to you Summer….but...them's the breaks. Hard knocks. Life's full of 'em. Get used to it."

"Sir-" The male cop was about to say, but Summer cut him off abruptly,

"Shut your fucking mouth Rick!" she yelled at her grandfather and, unable to stop herself, burst abruptly into tears. God, sometimes she really hated that man. He could make her so mad sometimes. And even now, all he could do was force the bitter, sobering reality down her throat. It burned and scorched her insides; it left her scraped out and hollowed inside.

"YouUGh're overreacting, SUGHmmmer," Rick slurred heavily as he teetered precariously on the edge of the couch. "DeUGth...it's just a part of living….it happUGNs to all-all of us-"

"NO they DON'T!" Summer screamed in spite of herself, a rage boiling over that she didn't even know she had, "not my parents! They wouldn't, they couldn't just-" She swallowed back the rest of the words, standing on unsteady feet, trembling with a speechless and dangerous glower at her grandfather.

Rick shrugged indifferently and took a swig of the beer in his hand. "EUGHveryone kicks it sometime, kid. ParUGHnts too. NUGHn of us are im-immune, Sum-"

" _SHUT UP_!" Summer shouted, face red with anger and tears and, before she could stop herself, slapped the beer abruptly from out of Rick's hand, the booze soaking Rick's front as well as the couch, and the floor.

"Whught the hell SUMMER!?" Rick jumped up in a flash, furious, stunned into near speechlessness by Summer's outburst. He stared blankly down at his stained lab coat for a moment, before turning eyes of pure fury on Summer. He started towards her, hand raised threateningly, and Summer, frozen in place with fear, began backing away-

-until she backed abruptly into the cop behind her, who had taken hold at once of Rick's arm, holding her grandfather in place (in spite of his wobbliness). "Sir," said the cop with quietly restrained anger, "You're going to come with me now."

"Oooo I'm shaking in my boots," Rick quipped with a casual shrug, but Officer Jackson simply rolled his eyes at the remark.

"Officer O'Shea, you keep an eye on these kids. Mr. Sanchez and I are going to take a ride down to the morgue. Mr. Sanchez, you're coming with me. Try any funny business and you'll be spending the night in the slammer."

"Aught least there'd be some peace and quiUGHt there," Rick remarked idly.

"If you're lucky," Officer Jackson replied with gruff amusement, as he closed the front door behind them.

xxxxxxx

"Are you okay?" Officer O'Shea sat with Summer in the den, having made her some warm lemon tea. Summer sat on the couch, taking absent sips at the tea, not really caring what it was that she drank. (At this point, she was beginning to understand why her grandfather was constantly knocking them back. She almost wanted a beer for herself; she knew though the officer would never allow an underage minor to drink alcohol in her presence. Maybe she would wait until the officer was gone.)

"No," Summer answered quietly. She wondered where Morty was. At the thought of him, she felt her eyes fill. _God...he didn't even know yet._ "I...my brother…I have to go get him," she mumbled weakly, standing on legs that felt like rubber. "He's got to be upstairs."

"Should I come with you?" Officer O'Shea stood as well, waiting for her answer expectantly.

"N-no," Summer replied. _All I want is to be left alone._ "I'll be...okay." 'Okay' _….what did that even mean anymore?_

"I'll be right here," said the officer as she headed for the stairwell.

"Thanks," Summer muttered, and fled up the stairs.

xxxxxxx

Officer O'Shea must not have had good ears, because she didn't seem to notice the sound of Morty's footsteps as he tiptoed away through the kitchen. From behind the corner of the hallway that led towards the garage, Morty had been listening. He'd heard every word. _Your parents are dead Summer._ Saw his sister faint in response. Saw his grandfather nearly hit his sister. Saw the cop stop him just in time.

Morty held his stomach and leaned against the wall, sinking to the floor, hugging himself, his mind blank, his mouth dry. He knew he should go upstairs, but then the cop would see him. He was terrified of cops.

Dead. His parents were dead. Gone, just like the ones he'd left behind in the Cronenburg'd earth. Did that mean that they were still alive somewhere else? He didn't know what the answer was, and Rick wasn't there to answer it. He'd almost come out of hiding when the cop had told Rick they had to go. It was so weird, but he wanted to see their bodies. He wasn't sure why. The idea terrified him and he was grateful he'd missed the chance.

His sister! She was looking for him. Morty remembered the back door, past the garage; there was a way in on the other side of the kitchen. He left as quietly as possible through the garage, ran around back, and snuck past the den, with all the stealthy skills of a ninja on the prowl (Rick would have been proud).

He found his sister in the strangest of places. She was sitting on his bed.

"Summer…?" Morty said. She looked up, her face puffy from crying.

He walked over to her. She stared blankly back at him. He sat next to her on the bed; threw his arms around her. Summer held onto him for dear life. And they both stayed like that for some time, quietly sobbing into each other's arms.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

 **Author's Note:** If morgues make you queasy, I'm not too graphic, but you might want to skip this chapter. However, it is significant, so you might want to read it anyway. That being said, you have been warned, so don't say I didn't warn you….after all, it's the writer's job to keep things real...right?

" _A time to cast away stones; a time to gather stones together."_

 _-"Turn Turn Turn" (Pete Seeger)_

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rick was no stranger to death. (Hell, he'd _literally_ been through a war; several, in fact.) He'd had comrades die right in front of him, many times; he'd trodden over their bones; he'd buried their bodies; he'd blown the heads off of enemies and slept straight through the night without a second thought of the incident.

Going to visit the county morgue shouldn't have been any different. Especially since everything had already acquired a nice soft glow, and he found himself chuckling at the strangely surreal circumstances he'd found himself in, the cop giving him curious sideways glances all the way there, but what the hell did he care. He laughed at that, too.

Things got very quiet when they entered the cold sterile room. On two metal tables were two bodies covered by sheets. The cop spoke in whispered, hushed tones to the medical examiner. The medical examiner left quickly after. Rick waited in the doorway, staring dully at the medical equipment that was set up on a metal tray, just waiting to be used. There was something hypnotic about the way the scalpel and enterotome glistened under the harsh fluorescent lights. It seemed to be way too bright for a morgue.

"Mr. Sanchez?"

Rick turned towards a man wearing official looking clothes. _Must be the coroner's officer._ The man held his hand out for Rick to shake. Rick blinked down at it. "Rick," he allowed slowly, still staring down at the foreign object in front of him, as though it were a grenade that might detinate at any given second.

"Sir...my name is Mr. Cromwell. I'm the Coroner's Officer. Please accept my condolences-"

"Look," Rick muttered, "I'm _here_ , allllright? I get it. You're 'sorry for my loss'. Hate to break it to you, but 'Sorrys' are _waaaaay_ overrated. SO now all that the fun stuff is over with, let's crash this grim reaper's party and get it over with STAT before all his drunken buddies show up cuz trust me that's when the _real_ trouble begins, bitch! Ya dig?"

Mr. Cromwell stared blankly at the strange old man in the stained lab coat (that looks curiously a lot like the coroner's) and his bizarrely blue hair for a moment before holding out a sheet of paper, "Uh Sir...would you please sign your name right there? Your signature and ID is required to ensure your authenticity."

Rick waved his wallet and ship license, complete with mug shot (Rick wore it like a badge), quickly in front of the man's face, just long enough so that it wouldn't linger.

Mr. Cromwell nodded curtly with acceptance. "Thank you. Now….I'd like you to take a seat over here with me for a minute, if you would, Sir?"

Rick watched as the Officer pointed at a nearby swivel chair. He pushed his legs in that direction and sank into the chair with unexpected relief. _Whatever made this process go quicker._

"We have Mr. Smith's wallet and his...uh...wedding ring with his name on it. Your daughter's, uh, ring, too." The coroner held up a plastic baggy with the items in it. There was his daughter's ring, with the words "Beth Smith" engraved in gold, and Jerry's was presented soon after. One minute right in front of him and the blink and they next gone, tucked away in some drawer somewhere. "We have some pictures for you to identify," the Officer said briskly, after a quick clear of the throat. "It's not like in the movies. You won't have to see them if-"

The officer stopped at once as, without announcement, Rick had stood up abruptly and was already walking towards the two tables. "Mr. Sanchez? You, um, uh, you really don't have to do that-"

"Iiiii- it's URP fine, just, just: back off. I got this." Rick stood looking down at the two body-sized sheets.

"Mr. Sanchez," the officer said, his voice so close now that Rick nearly jumped, "you really don't have to-when-they were-found, uh, we weren't exactly sure right away who they-"

But Rick had already pulled the sheet off. There, lying naked on the table, was Jerry-or, what was left of him-his face so discolored and badly disfigured, _beyond recognition_ in fact, that he could have been anybody besides his dead son-in-law.

In that moment, the Coroner's Officer was gone. It was just him and Jerry, and Rick hadn't ever wanted to kill a man so damn much, except that he couldn't even do it, because the man was already dead. His hands wanted to move, to lunge forward and wrap around the man's swollen neck, but for some dumb useless reason they stayed glued to his side. He had to swallow back the uesless words that threatened to erupt from within him, his hand slowly recovering the sheet, turning quickly away. _You useless pathetic excuse of a homsapian's ass. Should have left you at that fucking Jerryboree with the fucking other useless lumps of flesh. Fucking piece of worthless two-legged scum._

The Coroner's officer was strangely quiet now. "Sir, should I-are you-"

" _Back-off,"_ Rick hissed with warning, and the officer did at once as he was told, watching silently as Rick pivoted abruptly towards the table sitting perpendicular. The one that _she_ was lying on. He tore the sheet off in one fell swoop (like a band-aid, just like a band-aid). There was Beth, her face swollen, disfigured and bruised, strangely devoid of blood, and staring blankly up at him. Rick reached a hand out and, without a word, turned down her useless eyelids. _Just go to sleep now Beth. It's all over now. Your work is done._ He pulled the sheet back up to her chin, gently as possible, as he had once at bedtime, when she was but a child. He turned towards the officer standing silently beside him.

"YeeeeEUP it, it's them, right, right there. M-my _pathetically thoughtless and shallow_ daughter, and….and my e-even more pathetic and _brainless_ son in law that for some mind-numbingly stupid reason she decided to marry. YoUGh've got my sig on your pad, Officer, soooo, 'ts been fun and all, but looks like you've got all you need soooo we're done here. Excuse me. Iiii-I've got, got a, a thing." Without another word Rick turned and broke into run, and didn't stop running until he'd burst through the nearest exit doors, found the nearest bush, and emptied the entire contents of his stomach into it with abandon.

 _Goddamn idiots._

 _All of them._

 _Fuck them all._

xxxxxxxxxxx

Summer knocked softly on Morty's door. "Morty?"

He was asleep, and how could she blame him? They'd been through hell that day, and Rick wasn't back from wherever the cop had taken him yet. She might as well go to sleep herself.

She watched him for a moment, wondering if she should wake him to tell him she would be right across the hall if he needed her-then she stopped and wondered who she would really be doing that for. The last thing Summer wanted was to deal with the stranger who was down in the den. Even though Officer O'Shea was nice, she asked far too many questions. "How long has your grandfather been living with you?" and "Does he drink a lot? How many times a day? Is it normal for him to act like this?"

Summer had tried to avoid answering as many quetions as possible. Morty had been the true star tonight, answering all the cop's questions, being as vague as possible. She wondered what the cop would think if they told her that Grandpa had a spaceship in the garage. Or that he knew how to travel to different dimensions. Or show her the intergalactic cable box. She would have plenty more questions where that came from.

There was always a risk of someone finding out about their grandfather's crazy habits, but that was the last of Summer's worries. She couldn't stop asking herself _What would Mom do in this situation?_ Her mother-save for her occasional drinking (in that regard, the fruit hadn't fallen too far from the tree) was the most level-headed one in the family. Summer couldn't imagine what her mother would have done, if it was only her father who had died.

 _Only….._

Tears sprung unbidden to Summer's eyes, and Morty quickly became a blur. Suddenly, she didn't want to be anywhere else but cuddled up next to her younger brother. He was tossing and turning a little and mumbling something undecipherable in his sleep, and normally that might have bothered her (Summer was a light sleeper) but right now she didn't care. She knew that if she left him alone, she would go down and drink herself into oblivion, or possibly worse (if that could even be a possibility) and she didn't want to turn into Rick.

Morty rolled over in bed, snoring gently, and she watched as something pink fell from his hand to the floor. It was her pink elephant stuffed animal, the one her mother had always given her when she was sick to hold onto, as something comforting in the dark.

Summer bent and picked up the stuffed animal and, with shaking fingers, replaced it back besides her sleeping brother. She climbed into bed next to both of them, and felt the soft tufts of the elephant's fuzzy fur against her face. Winston had lost some fur, but that was from being well-loved. It didn't matter; she was just glad for her company. "Don't leave me Winston," she whispered. "Just...don't go anywhere, okay?" Summer pressed her face into him and hugged Winston tight, trying hard not to cry. She had to be strong now, for her brother; he needed her now more than ever. Summer forced her eyes shut against the tears and slipped into a restless, dreamless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

 **Author's Note:** Suspend your disbelief. Please. For my sake. And Rick's.

"Sir, wake up, sir-you're home."

Rick jerked awake, finding himself in practically dangling out of the backseat of the police car, gazing blankly up into the male officer's face-the same rotten bastard that had taken him to that godforsaken morgue. Officer Jackson regarded him with moderate disdain, looking him over with a mixture of incredulous disgust and painstaking sympathy. It was a look that turned his stomach, but he couldn't have vomited again; there was nothing in his stomach left. Rick refused the officer's oustretched hand and, wordlessly, followed him up the walkway to the Smith family home.

"We have some resources for you, phone numbers to local funeral homes, and we'll be calling you when the hospital is ready for those….services." Officer Jackson kept prattling incessantly on as they went through the door. "I suggest you contact any, uh...relatives to let them know of the….situation."

Rick took the piece of paper and stared down at it with feigned interest. Any other time he would have given back a sarcastically witty reply, but his mind was soaked in alcohol, he reeked of vomit, and all he wanted to do was retire to his bedroom and attempt to sleep it off. His head was killing him, and he wanted nothing more than to just be in a dark room with nobody else around to bother him about stupid redundant and petty useless things. "Got it," was all he said, standing squarely in the doorway so that Officer Jackson couldn't come through. "Your woUGhrk is done. Goodnight."

"Ahem?" Rick swung around at the coughing from behind him. Officer O'Shea had stood up from her post in the den/living room couch, advancing cautiously towards him.

 _Great,_ Rick thought with a roll of the eyes, _It's the lame old "good cop, bad cop" routine._

"Mr...um...Sanchez, is it?" Officer O'Shea made an obvious effort not to bring her hands anywhere near him. Rick narrowed his eyes at her approach, taking into account her pathetic attempt to suppress her nervous demeanor. "I spoke with your um...grandkids-"

 _Shit. The kids-he'd completely forgotten._ "OH shit, right, wh-wheaaare _are_ the whacky li, little runts, anyway?" Rick demanded as his eyes scanned the empty room, "I was gonna, you know, take them out for some ice cream," he added with a half-hearted explanation to the waiting cop. "Kids, they, they've gotta get their ice cream, ya know?"

"They're _asleep_ , Mr. Sanchez." Officer O'Shea was frowning with confusion, "it's really, really late-they're exhausted beyond reason. They couldn't go anywhere right now!" Officer O'Shea sounded more than a little upset as she added haltingly, "Those poor kids just gotten the worst news of their lives-"

"TheyUGH're gonna be just fine," Rick interrupted flatly, "trust me. They're kids. And that's _nowhere_ near 'the worst news of their lives'; the 'worst' is realizing you've married yourself a prisUGHn, your life is a joke and the universe is an illusion, and you're just a fucking pawn in this horrible excuse of a tv show. THAT would be the worst-"

"Mr. Sanchez," Officer Jackson said, taking a quietly fuming O'Shea by the arm and handing Rick a card, "that's my number. We'll….keep in touch."

"Can't wait," Rick replied darkly as he watched the cops leave without a response. They didn't look back.

As soon as they were out of sight, Rick flicked the card into the nearest trash can, and grabbed himself another beer, and headed upstairs for his bedroom. On the way there, he noticed a crack of light filtering in from Morty's bedroom. Rick winced at the light; his heart pounded, and all he wanted was to take a shower and go to bed, but for some reason, he crept towards the doorway, and, against his better judgment, took a peek inside.

Only the lamp was still turned on, casting a soft glow on Morty and Summer, who were fast asleep cuddled next to each other under the sheet. From where Rick stood, they suddenly seemed much younger, maybe five and seven instead of fifteen and seventeen. For some reason, he found himself drawn towards the bed, and he stood there, looking down at them.

They looked (how else could he describe it?) peaceful, as they slept. Morty twiched a bit, but otherwise, lay still. Summer's arm was draped around his shoulder and (Rick shook his head in dismay) a _thumb_ was in her mouth, making her look even younger. Sometime during the night, Morty had kicked the sheets off. Rick shook his head in disdain at his grandkids, looking so pathetic as they lay together in bed. He couldn't help it; he felt sorry for the kid, so he took the sheet and dragged it up over them, careful, so as not to wake the 'rugrats'. Summer mumbled something and started sucking her thumb (Rick recoiled in disgust) and she turned over. That's when Rick saw it: the elephant, that _pink_ elephant. Lying right in the middle of them. _Winston._

 _His_ Winston. The one that he'd thought had been lost forever. The one that nobody else was _ever_ supposed to ever see. Rick's fingers clenched and unclenched involuntarily, his throat seizing and his stomach coiled itself into knots. He'd completely forgotten about Wintson. Now here he was. In Morty's bed. With _Summer_ of all people, who would never know what his significance was to begin with. Summer would only see pink stuffed animal elephant. His purpose erased, his importance discarded, reduced to a mere _toy_ that a little girl played with.

Rick was about to lunge for the stuffed animal when, suddenly, Summer moaned and turned over in her sleep. His hand halted in its tracks, and he had to bit his lip from screaming. _So fucking close._ Rick couldn't wake them up so he shut his eyes and screamed silently all the profanities of the universe in his head.

Then he quickly switched off the light, closed the door and headed straight for his own bed, exhausted beyond thought, the stench of his lab coat and the day's events blissfully cast aside, the mark they'd left discarded and forgotten.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

 **Author's Note:** If you're confused, you'll find out later. (Just...trust me, okay?)

Earth Dimension: D14o

Year: -124043 A.S. ( _After Sunset)_

It was Rick's fifteenth birthday-otherwise known as "the year without the sun". He wasn't expecting any visitors to come and celebrate. (Why would he? He knew all too well that the 'Gaurdian' frowned upon it.) The 'Gaurdian' would probably just treat it just like any other day, which it was; he was just a year 'younger' than last year, was all.

Normally he wouldn't care, but this year actually was pretty big, as far as years would go. It meant that Project Möbius was going exactly how the 'Gaurdian' hoped it would go. If things continued like this, he might even get to help design the newest ship model next year. For now, he'd simply have to watch from a distance and do whatever the 'Gaurdian' wanted, because that was how you were supposed to learn.

Rick had yearned for a book from the 'Gaurdian's shelf that he'd eyed many times over the years, but there was no expecting of presents of course. He had all he needed: a spot to sleep, and a place to think. Food came later, but that was a luxury. Warmth was a secondary comfort to a good night's sleep and just as rare, but he was always happy to find a metal jug sitting on the floor when he awoke.

It was always the happiest time when he could forget any nightmares and tilt back the generous contents of the jug down his gullet, and savor the silky smooth green liquid. It always left a little foam on his lower lip, but he didn't really care; all that mattered was that his belly felt full, and his mind felt fed.

One time, he'd dared to ask the 'Gaurdian' what was in the potent elixer. "Ah….you have arrived," was all the 'Gaurdian' replied-and while it hadn't answered his question, it _felt_ like a compliment, one that nearly made Rick break down with gratitude, because the 'Gauardian' rarely spoke, or even looked him in the eye. This time, the old man with the leathery face and hair the color of Arctic ice looked him straight in the eye, and Rick almost trembled with unabashed relief.

He didn't bring it up again, but years later, Rick would discover the elixer contained 'Megaseed juice'. These 'Megaseeds' held a powerful extract that, if consumed, could change you in ways you could only imagine. Back then, Rick would cherish the special drink that always left him floating in the clouds for awhile, before the 'Gaurdian' called him to go on one of their 'errands', and he had to come back down to Earth.

This year Rick was more than surprised-he was shocked beyond reason-when something else was left on the hard cement floor, beside the jug of elixer, as well as a note. The note said, "Project Möbius is going as planned. You will know why soon enough. Take good care of Winston, Boy. You will soon realize why you must never lose sight of him. Hold him to your chest and remember, because they never forget."

At first, Rick just sat there, wondering if he should touch it. Curiosity got the better of him, however, and he picked up the tattered stuffed animal by the trunk. The elephant had one eye that was nearly worn off, and the other eye stared straight into his soul. Rick sat there looking at the elephant and shivered. This didn't seem right. It didn't seem like the 'Gaurdian' to do this. Why would the 'Gaurdian' have given him such a gift?

However, the longer he stared into that elephant's eyes, a strange thing happened: a kind of sensation that Rick could only describe as…. _warmth._..came over him, and it was so strong that something jerked itself loose inside of him, and Rick jumped back, horrified, throwing the elephant clear across the little room. He stared blankly across the floor at the abandoned elephant that continued to stare right through him with its one soulless eye. Rick shivered, and felt something wet on his hand-but-what was it? He hadn't ever experienced anthing like it before. What was….. _happening_ to him?

It as then that Rick noticed something else, laying on the floor there right next to the note. (How could he have missed it?) It was a _key_. Rick sat up immediately, mystified. Was it-could it-really be? The _key_ -to his... _room_? And that made Rick shake even harder; he nearly started to whimper with what he could only imagine was that thing the 'Gaurdian' had told him would hep him one day...that thing everyone else would call "fear". _(Why would he leave him the key, just let him….?)_

The elephant forgotten, Rick shoved himself up and ran straight for his freedom. With shaking fingers he drew the key through the small opening in the door that let in fresh air, and, after dropping it once, he somehow (in spite of the shaking), managed to fit the key straight into the lock. That was it-he was out-out-OUT! Rick stood trembling in the airy, dimly lit, dungeon-like chamber of the hallway. Any other day he would have been thrilled but, something...none of this made any sense. No-something about all of this was just very, _very_ wrong.

He remembered the way to the laboratory from here, and ran there without a second thought. As soon as he came to the doorway, Rick stopped at once in his tracks, all the air knocked out of him, and he nearly fainted at the sight in front of him:

There was the 'Gaurdian', sitting on the floor, legs splayed out in front of him, staring back at Rick with empty, soulless eyes, bleeding profusely from a gaping hole in his head-

xxxxxxxxx

Earth Dimension C139

Year: 2015

Rick sat up abruptly in bed, desperately gasping for breath. It took a second to realize where he was-that he was alone, where he always slept now, back in the Smith family home. An unexpected sigh of relief escaped him and he almost laughed out loud at his foolishness as his head fell back against the pillow. Here he was…. still on this godforsaken planet known as Earth Dimension C139.

For a second, the laughter continued when he thought he'd stopped, and for a moment there Rick feared he might be losing his mind. Now, more than ever, he desperately needed a drink. Rick tore out of bed and headed straight for downstairs.

He was halfway down the stairs when the laughter started again-only-something didn't feel right about it. No, Rick realized with a sinking sensation, that wasn't laughter at all. It was crying. SHIT. He would have continued to head straight back for bed if not for a voice that stopped him in his tracks. "She's so beautiful," Summer was saying. "Isn't she, Jerry? Isn't she gorgeous?"

Wait- _what?_ Who in the hell was she talking about? Rick froze on the stairwell and turned slowly around. Ducking his head under the railing, he could just make an image took up not just the television, but the entire far wall:

A woman with flowing blond hair, youthfully beautiful, and holding up what looked like a bulky blanket in her hands. No-not a blanket-a baby. The woman smile down at the baby in her arms. "Can you believe it! She's just so _gorgeous_!" gushed the woman with swelling pride.

A falling sensation made Rick lower himself down on the stairs and grip the railings, poking his head through to get a better look. He'd know that voice anywhere.

 _Beth. Holding baby Summer._

"Can you believe it Jerry?" Beth kept gushing, "we're PARENTS!"

"Well….yeah, sure," came Jerry's even-toned voice from somewhere beyond the camera's lense, "babies, they're always perfect little bundles of joy..."

Rick winced as Beth, seemingly having not noticed the sarcasm, completely ignored the remark. "I just can't believe it," she kept saying as she cradled the babe in her arms, "we're _parents_ , Jerry! You...and ME! PARENTS!"

"Yeah," muttered Jerry from his sanctuary behind the camera, "I _know_."

A sob escaped from the couch and soon he could hear Summer weeping.

 _Pathetic,_ Rick thought, his stomach churning violently, doing flip-flops and threatening to rebel against him once again. With all the strength he could muster, he forced himself up the stairs, barely able to see straight, the path in front of him a blur.

He stopped at Morty's bedroom and took a quick look in. The kid was lying in the same position, but at least Summer had left some of the sheet on. However, Rick noted that she had taken Winston with her. _Bitch._ Rick There was nothing left to do but head back to bed, hoping his mind would reward him with the luxurious absence of dreams.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

 **Author's Note:** Some chapters will be shorter than others; doesn't mean that if they are, they will be less significant... As a writer I have to end on a note where it feels right. Thanks to everyone who's still reading, reviewing and favoriting this story: it helps keep me motivated! I appreciate all of your feedback, and special thanks to "romeocitychicag" for always providing excellent constructive criticism!

The 'Guardian' was dead. This much was certain.

And it was by his own hand. A self-inflicted gunshot wound.

Rick stared blinking down at the man whose face was all he'd ever known, for as far back as he could remember. It had never been a handsome face, that face; it was scarred and grotesque, and always devoid of empathy. The blood that had since gushed from the wound was starting to coagulate and thus harden, and the smell of rotting flesh was beginning to fill the room.

He stared at the dead body and looked down at himself.

There were tracks of blood smeared on the floor left from his own two shoes.

A wave of nausea overcame him and he fell to the floor, vomiting on the already stained white tile floor. He retched several times until there was nothing left, and then, he forced himself to look again at the body: the 'Guardian's'. HIS 'Gaurdian'. The one who had given him shelter, took him in from the cold when nobody else had wanted him. What had driven the man to insanity? Rick could only imagine, and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

What was he going to do now? If there was any way of outside contact, the 'Gaurdian' had never let on, and Rick couldn't ever recall seeing a contacting device of any kind. (Even if he could, who would he call? He didn't know anybody outside of the lab.) He'd also never disposed of a body and-as pathetic as it sounded-didn't know in the least where to begin. It seemed only right that the 'Gaurdian' should have a proper burial of some kind….but that meant that he'd have to drag the body out of the lab and find some solid ground to dig a hole in, which meant...he'd have to go….

 _Out._

The only way to go " _Out"_ was by way of the 'Gaurdian's' own portal gun, which was to "never be touched" except by the 'Gaurdian' himself. Now, for the first time in Rick's life, he would be able to use the device he'd only dreamt of for so long of using himself. Now, for the first time, he had free reign of the lab and all of its equipment: except what would he do with it, now that the 'Gaurdian' was gone? The computers and other machines that surrounded him from all corners of the emaculately clean room continued their incessent beeping and humming. The portal gun was nowhere to be seen.

Rick sat where he was and stared blankly at the body, wrestling desperately against his desire to run. He could leave right now if he wanted to; what was really keeping him here now? Nothing-the 'Gaurdian' was dead. What was beyond the lab? He'd always wanted to know, but the 'Gaurdian' would never talk about it. (For all he knew, it could be another lab….endless rooms within rooms in a chamber of time that never ended.)

Rick rested his head down on his arms. His skin felt flush, almost feverish, and suddenly all he wanted to do was sleep.

 _Psst!_

The sound made Rick jump and swirl around: a voice? Was that a voice?

 _Psst-Psst!_

Rick jumped to a standing position and turned in a complete full circle.

It couldn't be a voice. Was he losing his mind?

 _Psst-kid! Hey_ KID!

Rick froze at the words. They were no longer possible rodent noises. This was a _full sentence in his native tongue_. "Wh-who's th-th-there?" Rick stammered. His own voice made him wince; he'd always spoken in a stutter for as long as he could remember. It was probably why he and the 'Gaurdian' rarely ever talked.

 _KID-over here! Hey! KID!_

Rick's stomach dropped as the voice persisted-was he hearing things? Or was there actually someone else in the room? He couldn't imagine how; he could see the expanse of the lab from every angle, and there couldn't _possibly_ be-

"Wh-who _are_ you?" Rick demanded of the voice as he swung all about in all directions, trying to locate the source. "I-I-I-I've got a-a-a- gun," he shouted in as threatening a voice as he could muster, "a-a-and I'll shoot!"

 _No you won't, kid._

"H-h-how the h-hell do _you_ know!" How could a voice that didn't exist make him so incredibly angry?

 _I'm harmless kid. Trust me._

"W-why would I?" Rick squeaked. He hoped whoever-or whatever-owned the voice couldn't see how much he was shaking.

 _I'm locked up in here kid. Couldn't hurt you if I tried. But I wouldn't want to. No need._

"W-who the hell are you!" Rick shouted. He couldn't remember ever being so mad and the sound of his voice rising took even him by surprise.

 _I'm on your side kid. I've been locked up for years in here, just like you._

"Y-y-you're a rotten f-f-f-ucking liar!" Rick forced the words through clenched teeth.

 _Wish I was a 'Liar', kid. Look up here if you don't believe me._

Against his better judgment, Rick found himself staring straight up at the ceiling. How he'd never seen it before was something that would haunt him for some time to come: there was a hole in the ceiling separated from below only with a sheet of wire mesh. To his horror, Rick could see two eyes peering down at him from above. Pins and needles overwhelmed his body but Rick could only keep his eyes trained on the stranger in the ceiling.

"W...wh...who….?" Rick couldn't finish the sentence.

"Name's Squanchy," the stranger answered promptly with delight before he had to ask. "Squanch to meet you-you don't have to tell me yours."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

 **Author's Note:** There will be a connection between this backstory and the current timeline. (Don't worry, I haven't forgotten-it all comes together in the end!)

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 _Maybe I'm dreaming,_ Rick thought. _Maybe none of this is real._

Normally the idea would have terrified him, but today, it was a welcome thought.

Meanwhile, everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, and he couldn't seem to move at all.

The stranger in the ceiling was still talking to him, but he might as well have been talking in a foreign tongue.

The Gaurdian was still dead with a bullet in his skull.

"Hey KID? KID!" The stranger was shouting at him, and Rick forced his eyes open, turning back towards the ceiling.

"Did you hear anything I just said? I was squanching a whole introduction to you."

"W-wh-what…." Rick felt lightheaded and had to sit down. He squatted in the nearest stool. "Wh-who the fuck are you-wh-wh- _what_ are you-wh-wh-what are you doing here at all?" They were only three out of thousands of questions he wanted to have answered, but Rick was far too exhausted from everything to persist. He wanted to go back to his hole and sleep.

"Like I told you Kid. Name's Squanchy, from the Planet Squanch, located in the Squanchiest Quadron of the Squanchahedron Cluster found within the squanchiest of Squanchy Ways."

Rick's mind was doing cartwheels. "Sq-squancha-squanchahed- _what_?"

"And you must be the result of the latest Reproductive Intelligence Cloning Karyology," Squanchy continued, "also known as: 'R.I.C.K.'"

Rick shook his head with astonishment, "Re-re-repro-Kary... _what_!?"

"All in good time my friend; clearly you've been sheltered for far too long." Squanchy seemed pleased by their little interlude, and Rick had to steady himself against the dull ache in his head that was beginning to grow into a migraine. "So…" Squanchy's voice turned grim, "what should we do about the Mr., down there? I was thinking we could leave him pent up in a cooling chamber; you might be aware that bodies tend to stay pretty well preserved in there."

Who was this guy? Rick didn't like the sound of this. The stranger was far too friendly for having just met Rick; he spoke funny, and if the Gaurdian had kept him locked up-without telling Rick about his presence-there had to have been a pretty good reason. Rick stared down at the gun on the floor by the body. He picked it up and peered into the metal chamber: it was still warm, and there was still one bullet left. He'd actually never used a gun before, but he'd seen the Gaurdian do it himself many times. It looked fairly easy to use.

Rick carefully placed the gun down inside his pants pocket and looked up at the ceiling with narrowed eyes. There was something about this 'Squanchy' that Rick didn't like; he was way too sure of himself, and who was to say that Squanchy hadn't set the whole thing up? (That wire mesh looked pretty flimsy, and could the Gaurdian have ever really turned a gun on himself?) None of this made any sense, and Rick was beginning to wonder. "Who says y-y-you're helping me do _anything_?" Rick challenged with a growl. "I'm not g-going _anywhere_ with you. Got it?" Without waiting for an answer, Rick began searching throughout for the portal gun. _Please, don't let it be in the Gaurdian's pocket…._ The lab coat was dotted with splatches of dried blood. He couldn't bare the thought of touching it, nor even taking a glimpse into the Gaurdian's eyes.

"Where do you plan to go?" Squanchy's question halted him in his tracks. Rick had never been out of the lab without the Gaurdian. The question opened a whole new world of possibilities. It fascinated him as well as equal parts terrified him.

"Away," was his solemn answer. It was as vague as he could be, but the last thing he wanted was for this Squanchy person to start following him-or worse yet, take him hostage and start torturing him for whatever reason.

"Sounds like you have quite a plan there," was Squanchy's pat answer, and Rick's stomach coiled with disgust and barely contained rage at the obvious amusement in his voice. "But you know-if you let me out-I can take you to Planet Squanch with me-and trust me, you'll have a much better time squanchin' there than you ever would in this dump. Plus," Squanchy's voice turned conspiratorial, "I know where your little friend's precious portal gun is!"

Rick nearly walked into a desk in disbelief. "You kn-kn-know wh-wh-wh-" Fed up with his inability to complete his task, and tired of his stupid stutter, out of frustration, he found himself striking a foot out at the nearest chest of drawers, cringing in pain as his foot connected brutally with the drawer's protruding metal handle. "OwwowwowwOW!"

"Easy there kid. Easy."

"I'm NOT a f-f-f-fucking k-k-k-KID! STOP calling me a 'KID'-OKAY!? Rick slammed his hand down on the nearest desk and sat down in the first seat he could find, spent. Why was this happening to him? Why couldn't this just be like any other day? He would get up, drink, he and the Gaurdian would go on a quest; he would go to bed feeling fulfilled, feeling like he had some kind of purpose in the world….

"Look," said Squanchy (and his voice was softer this time), "I know you're scared kid. It's a scary squanching world out there. But believe me kid, it's better than places like this. You've got choices out there kid….you can go anywhere you want now! You've got the keys to your freedom right in that drawer by the mainframe server terminal, right over there."

Rick's heart leapt with unbidden excitement: _The portal gun: his ticket out of this mess._ In spite of his anticipation of departure, Rick found himself suddenly unsure if he even _wanted_ to leave. He'd only known the lab his whole life. Squanchy might as well be a murderous criminal. He could take over the lab and make his own inventions. He'd always wanted to create his own inventions. He'd finally be able to find out what was in that tattered old worn book that he'd seen on the shelf. He'd seen the Gaurdian reading it, referring to it during his various experiments, leafing through it every so often; there had to be something mindblowing in there that he could use for himself someday.

"I'll help you out if you let me outta here kid," Squanchy was saying from above, "I know how to use a portal gun. You don't-and I know the coordinates to lots of cool places, including some that you guys have been to! Being up here has had its advantages-sometimes you can just squanch a lot better from a higher perspective; ya know?"

Rick wanted to believe him. He felt the gun in his pocket, running his finger over the slowly cooling steel. _He wouldn't have left an extra bullet behind._ Rick pulled open the drawer that Squanchy had indicated: and there it was, right before him: the portal gun. Rick reached for it with a trembling hand. A sigh of accomplishment escaped his lips as his fingers closed at last around the hoister.

"Feels good," said Squanchy, "doesn't it, kid?"

Rick wouldn't have admitted it either way, but it _did_ ; he had always wanted to touch the gun, and here it was, right there, in his hand.

It was _his_ portal gun now-and he could go anywhere he wished.

Strangely, the room was beginning to blur; Rick felt his throat constricting, and his body trembled with exclamation. A strange sound of relief burst unexpectedly from his throat. He didn't know what this feeling was, but it was stronger than any he'd ever felt before. He wasn't sure what to make of it, but he had never before experienced what he could only describe as a strange sense of inner peace.

"So….." Squanchy's jarring, grating voice interrupted his thoughts, "you gonna let me out, kid, or what?"

Rick didn't respond. He had found himself smiling-and he hadn't smiled in a very long time.

He was ready for anything now.

He had a plan.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

 **Author's Note:** Just bare with me; everything comes together in time!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Morty woke, the bed was empty and Summer was gone, and with it her warmth, leaving goosebumps on his arms and an ache in his heart. Shivering in the half light that was struggling pathetically to filter through the curtains, Morty gathered his books and his notebooks, and tossed them into his bookbag.

Stealthily he crept down the hall, stopping at Rick's bedroom. Of course, Rick was out cold, dead to the world, and Morty cringed at the stench that was seeping out of the room. (Geeze-when was the last time his grandfather had taken a _shower_?) As quick as possible without making any noise, he made his way steadily over to Summer's door and knocked, twice, softly on the door.

No answer. Her door was locked, and if she was awake, he wouldn't be finding out any time soon; his sister was not a morning person as it was, and, especially today, Morty knew better than to push it. His heart sinking further, Morty headed downstairs to have breakfast by himself and get ready for school.

God, how he could use some of his mother's homemade pancakes right about now. At the thought of her, Morty pushed away the lump in his throat, and sat there silently, watching his cereal grow soggy. It didn't matter if there were other Moms and Dads in alternate timelines. He was in this timeline, and it still hurt….hurt more than Morty had ever thought imaginable, and his stomach ached with a seemingly bottomless sadness that threatened to devour him whole.

How did Rick do it, time and time again? Somehow, Rick could face his own mortality without a blink of the eye; could simply swoop down into a completely different timeline and look his own dead body in the face without any affect whatsoever, without a second thought. He could bury his own dead body and then go about his day as though nothing bad had even occured. Meanwhile, sometimes the empty soulless eyes of his own alternate's deceased body still made Morty quake and shiver, and he still had nightmares from time to time; he wasn't sure if he could do it again.

The bus would be coming in five minutes. Morty put his unfinished bowl of cereal in the sink and went to the end of his driveway, wondering if Rick or his sister would even care that he had left. He hoped that nobody had notified the school (though he couldn't imagine who would; Rick sure wouldn't care). All Morty wanted was to be was invisible, if just for a day, and forget about it all; just move from class to class, and ignore anyone if they talked to him. He was used to being a wallflower anyway. (Maybe though he'd talk to Jessica; no, he definitely wouldn't ignore Jessica.)

The bus came, and Morty got on. He sat far in the back and stared out the window, watching as everything flew magically by. Kids climbed all over the seats but it didn't matter if they stood on him, or climbed over him, or even sat on his head. All he had to do was get through the day alive. That was all he cared about. If he could get through the day alive, he could do anything; he'd already been proven time and time again, and even Rick had taught him in so many ways that "nothing was impossible".

So, Morty went to his classes but he didn't learn anything; he didn't know what the teacher was saying. He went to lunch but didn't eat; nothing appealed and he wasn't hungry. At the end of the day when the last bell finally rang, he ran out for the bus, but a car honking to his right got his attention.

Wait-what? It was Grandma and Grandpa Smith, in Grandpa Smith's old 1985 Cadillac Seville that he was so proud of and always kept in mint condition. There was Summer, already in the back, on her phone and not paying attention as usual. (What he hell!?) His grandparents on his father's side only visited on holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving. Those were always cheerful events. His grandparents did not look happy to see him; they looked sad and aged. Morty's stomach turned; he wanted to find a bathroom and throw up, but, instead, he trudged slowly over to the car. As he did, his grandparents parked and both got out. Morty's first instinct was to run; instead, he stood stock still.

"Grandmom? Grandpop! What, what are you doing here?" Morty squeaked.

"Oh, my baby…" His grandmother wrapped him immediately in her arms, and Morty could barely breath as she nearly suffocated him agains her bosom. "I'm so, so sorry, I'm so so sorry!" His grandmother was weeping against him as Morty struggled to gasp in air.

"Can't-can't-breath-gramma!" Morty somehow forced out between breaths.

"Joyce, let the boy go." His grandpa's stern voice interrupted the reunion, and Morty let a breath of relief escape as his grandmother finally released him from her grasp. "It's good to see you son…." Morty couldn't look his grandfather in the eyes as he spoke; Leanard Smith's eyes were glistening with tears, and Morty had never seen a grown man cry. "I'm….just sorry that it's under such….sad and tragic circumstances…"

"How did you-where did you-" Morty's eyes fell on Summer. _Summer._ She must have called them. Morty's heart flipped: did Rick know?

"Your sister called us about the news this morning," said Joyce breathlessly as she dabbed at her swollen red eyes. "We're here to pick you two up. You're going to stay with us for awhile."

Morty's eyes widened with horror, "But-but-but Rick-"

"Your grandfather will be just fine son." Leanard gently pat his grandson and motioned slowly towards the car. "Come on with us and we'll all go get some good food at the diner. We can talk about this all after a good hearty meal."

"No, I-it's-I can't just-" Morty blurted out, but for some reason, his legs wouldn't allow him to run, and he found himself being led into the car, and Summer shifted a bit as he got in, but kept her eyes frozen to her cell phone.

"It'll be okay Mortimer," Leanard spoke gravely. "Your grandmother and I have prepared ourselves for a time like this. Let us handle everything."

Morty felt a horrible sinking sensation then, and he wanted nothing more than to get out of the car, but it looked like his door was locked from inside, and his insides froze with fear. _What was happening? What about all his stuff at home?_

No. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't just leave Rick…..


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

 **Author's Note:** I know this chap is short, just bare with me! :) Please review, it helps keep my muse motivated!

When Rick finally woke, a whole day had gone by and it was night again, leaving him wondering if he had slept at all; he didn't feel rested. "UGH!" He stirred in the bed and the room spun; his stomach turned, and his head ached something horrible. The events of the previous evening rushed by in a blur. Rick snuck a look at the alarm clock on his rickety night stand: 7:30. Which meant he'd slept all day, because he'd gone to bed the previous night around 8pm; he'd been sober enough to somehow know that.

Getting up felt like climbing Mount Everest, but somehow he managed to pull himself to a standing position and stumble out into the hall in the dark. "Mmmorty?" Rick slurred, peering down the dark hallway. The kid was usually still up at this time, but there was no light on; he'd probably crashed after school, Rick figured as he staggered his way down the hall.

The night light that Morty typically left on was off, and Morty's bedroom was empty. Curiously, Summer's room was equally quiet, and there was no sliver of light peeking from under the door. The house was eerily quiet; much too quiet for a Monday night. Usually the kids were watching TV with Jerry around this time, and Beth, if she didn't have a later shift, was in the kitchen making dinner.

 _Beth._ Rick halted in the hallway, struggling to breath against the wheezing sound his chest was making, sucking in the drool that was pooling on his chin, trying to steady himself against the wall and the pounding ache in his head. He would have to make his own dinner tonight, and the kids'. They were probably hungry by now. They'd have to be satisfied with a Jerry-style meal (microwavable dinners). Rick hated to cook.

He had to drag himself to the stairwell and made his way down slowly, decending into further...darkness? Where was everybody? The living room was dark, as was the kitchen. It felt like a tomb.

"Morty?" Rick flicked the kitchen light on as he headed to the garage. He peered in: no Morty. Was this a joke? Were the kids pulling some kind of a prank on him? Morty never went out in the evenings unless it was with him. If they were pulling a joke, Rick was impressed; he must have taught them well.

Rick reached in and grabbed a beer, chugging heavily as he stood in the harsh light of the empty kitchen. Suddenly he was starving. He moved for the cabinet, but the light blinking on the answering machine caught his eye, and then he saw it: a letter that was on the counter right beside the answering machine.

Immediately Rick snatched up the letter and tried to ignore his growling stomach as his eyes scanned the page:

 _Grandpa Rick,_

 _Morty and I are at Grandma and Grampa Smith's, and we will be living here now. We can't stay with you. Please don't try to come after us. I am sorry._

 _~Summer_

By the time Rick had finished the letter, he was shaking with rage and his hands were practically ripping the piece of paper apart. _Sorry!?_ She was _Sorry!?_ That dirty blonde bitch, she had always hated him, and now she was taking Morty away from him! How would he go on any adventures without his Morty shield? How dare she leave him for _Jerry's_ parents, of all people! And Morty hadn't resisted? He'd just gone along with it? Rick couldn't believe it; he'd thought Morty would have at least tried to escape the situation, but there was no letter from Morty.

He could barely think straight when he pressed the Play button on the answering machine. Rick slumped into the nearest chair, suddenly exhausted, listening to Leonard's voice brutally calm voice assault his ears: "Um...Rick, this is Leonard's Smith….We tried to call you, and Summer told us you were sleeping, and we, well, we didn't want to disturb you...we will be looking after the kids for a bit, um…..they wanted to see us, and, you know how hard this is for all of us…"

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose and felt his stomach churn, but he kept listening:

"...Now, I don't mean to be rude, but, well...these kids," Leanard went on, "these kids need some...stability in their lives...someone who is going to be awake when they get home, to help with their homework..and...they need a female in their lives as well…I'd suggest you...take a break for awhile, and get yourself sober, because, well...I hate to say this Rick, and I don't mean you any disrespect, but...if you don't help yourself, there's no way you can be these kids' gaurdian. They need an adult in their lives, Rick...and from what I hear, you haven't really been fitting the role…"

Rick had heard enough at this point, and before Leonard's could finish he'd yanked the machine from its socket, the wires fizzing and then going silent, and Rick stood with the palms of his hands pressed deep onto the countertop, his eyes stinging with a burning sensation he'd never felt before. _Can't see...can't see...gotta wash my face...can't see._ He stumbled to the sink and flushed his face with water, soaking his shirt, but he didn't care. What the fucking hell. Who the hell did that man think he was? What exactly had Summer been saying about him? Why did he even care?

He didn't, that's what; because Rick was going to get those kids back, regardless of what the stupid Smiths thought-and he was going to do it _his_ way. It was the ONLY way.


	10. Chapter 10

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own "Rick and Morty"; they belong to Dan Harmon and Justin Roiland, .

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Shit's going down in this own broh. Better make sure you're ready, dog.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

4:35 am Earth Time

"Morty! You, you gotta wake the hell up right now, Morty!"

The shrill whisper forced Morty out of a blissful dream state where he was finally allowed to forget about his grief for awhile, and suddenly, instead of making out with Jessica on the beach, he was staring up at the intensly driven eyes of Rick at half past four am.

"Rick! What-" Morty, entirely confused, started to yell in protest, but his shout was quickly silenced by Rick's hand clamping over his mouth, as the older man looked sharply about for anyone who might have been woken from their slumber.

"Quiet! You want to wake the whole household? Now listen up Morty," Rick intoned as he began to slowly pull away his hand, "now I"m gonna trust that you'll trust me, and that you're gonna listen up, and you're gonna listen up real good, Morty, you got it? Your nosy kidnappers can't know I'm here. Got it?"

Unable to answer through Rick's hand, Morty nodded, too exhausted to fight Rick on this one.

"Good." Satisfied, Rick released his hand completely, as well as his hold on Morty, and removed himself from Morty's mattress. "Now," Rick added collectedly, "if you think you can keep your mouth shut, we can get both the heck outta dodge and eeeeverything will go back to the way it was. Kapeesh?"

"Whaa, what do you mean Rick?" Morty's pained and confused expression stopped Rick in his tracks.

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. _Dammit, that's what I get for caring about idiots._

"Rick?" Morty was watching him anxiously from the bed.

"You," Rick said plainly, "me. Ditching dimensions. Let's go."

Morty sat on the edge of his bed, staring at Rick's retreating back. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Suddenly he couldn't move. Was Rick really asking him to switch dimensions _again_? It was one thing when they'd Chronenberged the entire world, and, out of guilt, and thinking his family was probably either dead or had been turned into monsters, Morty had fled with Rick like a coward to dimension C-138. But, it was another thing entirely to leave Summer behind in a perfectly normal universe, simply because his parents had….

He couldn't finish the thought. It hurt too much. His feelings had been so numbed by the first experience of dimension jumping that it had taken him two full weeks to fully adjust. He was fully reminded by those two small humps of grass in the backyard, under one of which his alternate's body lay decomposing and slowly crumbling to dust six feet under. It was a sobering enough thought, but so was your parents dying; and boy, was he ever glad that he'd told Summer he wasn't her original brother, and she had actually believed (and accepted!) him for who he really was. (In fact, he liked to think that it had made them a little….closer.)

He wasn't sure he could bare the thought of leaving her behind for some other Summer in some other dimension. Rick was able to, but Rick didn't care. It was easier not caring, but Morty couldn't help himself; he still cared,and he didn't want to turn into someone who didn't. He couldn't leave Summer again.

"I'm not leaving Summer," Morty declared softly, and with enough emphasis so that Rick halted in his tracks and turned back to look at him and narrowed his eyes.

Rick stared at his grandson, who was glaring defiantly back at him with a stubborn cross of his arms (as if that would somehow make him seem stronger than he really was). "Really?" Rick snorted with indifference, "you'd stay here for her? She-she's not even that great a sister, Morty….what the hell has she ever done for you?"

Biting his lip to keep back a sudden sting of tears, Morty scowled and looked away sharply. "She's still my sister, Rick," he replied quietly. "I-i-it was hard enough the first time knowing it wasn't really the same family I grew up with, you, you know? Maybe you can just go about your business and act like it doesn't matter, but I-I…. I just can't do it again," he added haltingly, surprising himself at his own confession.

"Wow, Morty," Rick huffed crossly with a shake of the head, "I came over here trying to do you a _favor_. Way to be _grateful…._ You, you're a, a real piece of shit sometimes, ya know? Thought you would want to see Mommy and Daddy again, but I guess you're just too much of a chicken shit to do anything about it." At that, Rick ignored the tears streaming unchecked down Morty's cheeks, and abruptly turned to go. "I'll be waiting in the living room. Five minutes tops, if you're not in there, then I guess we don't have anything left to say to each other."

Morty watched speechlessly as Rick turned to leave, but then, something snapped in him, and he leapt off the bed and ran over to Rick, grabbing Rick's arm with a strength he didn't know he had and swinging the older man around. Rick blinked back, his mask of indifference momentarily broken, as Morty, trembling, glared up at Rick. "You know what Rick? You're a real asshole, you know? My, my parents just died, Rick!" Morty fumed, pacing back and forth and wringing his hands in the air, "and, you just want to act like, like it's no big deal! Well you know what, it IS a big deal Rick!"

"Shut the hell up! Just shut the hell up, Morty!" Rick hissed but Morty kept going in spite of his concern.

"And, and you can't just keep going around acting like, like, like it just _isn't_ , okay? OKAY? You, you _really_ crossed a line this time, Rick!" Morty shouted, as Rick struggled hard not to panic, trying to motion for Morty to quiet down (unsuccessfully). The kid was on a roll. "You, you can't just pretend that they didn't die, Rick!" Morty shouted at the top of his lungs. "But-but but but they DID! They DID!" Morty gasped and collapsed in a heap to the floor, trembling uncontrollably, his head in his hands, and suddenly, there was barking and yelling and a rush of movement from the other side of the door. Rick groaned with disgust-now he'd done it!-and suddenly there were Leonard and Joyce, standing there in the doorway, and gaping at them both with speechless horror. It took a good half a minute before they could snap out of their shock at finding unexpected company in their grandson's bedroom at this ungodly hour.

"What in God's name is going on here!?" Leonard Smith roared, finally finding his voice again, and glaring daggers at Rick.

"Trust me," Rick muttered flatly with a disgusted roll of his eyes at the ceiling, "your twisted concept of a highURP power has nothing to do with _this_ pathetic state of affairs."

Leonard's frame was practically shaking with an unspoken fury from the doorway, his hands balled into fists of rage; eventually, both grandparents' eyes fell upon their grandson, who was lying in a fetal position on the floor.

"Morty! Oh, God!" Joyce ran to her grandson, cradling him against her chest as Morty broke down in spite of himself, sobbing into her bosom. "What have you done to my grandson!?" Joyce fumed up at Rick.

"P-please don't be mad at me Grandma," Morty blurted, hating how young and stupid he sounded, trying hard not to cry and failing as he broke down again, "I didn't want to wake you but, but Rick was-"

"Shhh, baby, shhhh," Joyce lovingly rocked him against her side, arms holding him tight, "it's going to be okay…."

"Doubtful," Rick snorted with a shake of his head.

"Get the hell out of my house," Leonard hissed as he stepped up towards Rick. "You are not welcome here."

"Gladly," Rick replied, calm and collected as a cucumber as he sidestepped the angry older man."What the hell would I want with that crybaby over there, anyway?" Rick added with an indifferent wave in Morty's direction, ignoring the hurt puppydog whimper that escaped loudly from Morty's throat behind him, as he turned about and headed briskly for the doorway. _It was the curse of all Ricks….inevitably, they would eventually wear out their welcome. He wasn't surprised, really...it had to happen at some point, sometime._

"Go then!" Morty shouted vengefully at his grandfather's retreating back, "what do I care? Youuuu, you never gave shit about either one of us, anyway!"

"Not like you gave me any good reason to, you little shit!" Rick called back over his shoulder. "Don't expect any more adventures with me, either."

"Fine!" Morty yelled even as his voice cracked, "I won't!"

"Good!" Rick slammed the door, sending a shudder through the floorboards. Another slam of the front door was heard, another shudder felt, and then, the Smiths exhaled with relief as the house fell silent once again.

"I...I just don't understand that man," Leonard sighed heavily shaking his head as he fought to calm his frayed nerves, crouching down beside his wife and lending both her and Morty a hand.

Morty sat slumped over like a limp rag on the floor, oblivious to the other two people in the room, trying to figure out what had just happened. Had he just told Rick that they weren't friends anymore? Had Rick actually _agreed_ with him? Somehow, he thought the world would shatter if he'd ever shut Rick out of his life, but, strangely enough, it hadn't. He was still here, in one piece….almost….but Rick….he was gone. Just like that.

He let his grandmother help him up from the floor, and they went into the kitchen, where he sat at the counter and she made him some hot cocoa to help comfort his nerves. He drank the cocoa; it was good, but his stomach still ached, and his heart still hurt.

They were just words he'd said out of anger, Morty knew...but Rick….he'd sounded dead serious….

...but he couldn't be….

….could he?

 _ **TO BE CONTINUED….**_


	11. Chapter 11

**DISCLAIMER:** In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own "Rick and Morty".

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Expect things to get worse before they get better.

The Blips and Chitz arcade-Rick's favorite place to zone out, unwind from a long and arduous day-was unusually busy this time of night. It was a school night even in other dimensions, but the place was filled with horny aliens of different size and shape everywhere, mouths drooling hungrily at the opposite sex with lovelust in their eyes.

 _To be young and horny again,_ Rick thought: a thought that was easily dismissed with a snort and a dignified strut towards his favorite virtual reality game. It was a game simply called "Roy", and Rick was more than delighted to see that it had recently come out with a highly popular "Roy 2". In the game, you were fully immersed in the consciousness of a young boy named Roy. You lived as Roy: slept as Roy, ate as Roy, laughed and cried as Roy. You graduated with ease from kindergarten, then elementary, then high school, then college; you met the love of your life, got married, had lovely children, and acquired a well-paying job. Unfortunately the job Roy had was always the manager of a carpet store (unless you were creative like Rick and decided to forgo mainstream education, marriage, kids, and said job, and take Roy "off the grid", as one impressed alien had said.

The game was not without challenge: Roy would typically come down with some kind of cancer beyond the player's control. When Rick played as Roy he discovered the cure for cancer and instantly became a world-renowned hero; after enjoying fifteen minutes of fame, he would then slip back into complete anonymity with ease. There would be no telling what challenges would come from "Roy 2"; he hadn't read the reviews yet and was jumping at the bit to play: especially after the kind of week he was having.

He was NOT going to think about that stupid fight he'd had with his grandson or his royally messed up life. He was going to play "Roy 2", dammit-and he was going to play it NOW!

Of course, when he arrived, there was already a large and lumpy creature oozing with sweat and drool sitting comfortably in his seat. Rules of the game were you weren't EVER supposed to interrupt someone when in the throes of playing Roy; it could prove as highly traumatizing, as you forgot entirely about your own identity while playing, and it took some time to snap out of Roy's reality and jump back into your own. Rick never had any problems with slipping in and out of realities so it was never an issue for him. He had also never had any problems breaking the rules, so he quickly pushed the "EMERGENCY EJECT" button on the "Roy 2" arcade machine. Immediately the machine began to rattle and shake, and even nearly short-circuited, and the next thing that any curious onlookers knew, the slimy, pudgy and rainbow-colored alien had been knocked from the chair to the floor, the virtual reality helmet knocked completely off of his head.

"AHHHHH!" screamed the alien, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull as he writhed about on the floor shrieking and foaming at the mouth, "I'm TOO YOUNG TO DIE! I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIIIIIE!"

"Somebody call 911!" one of the other aliens watching shouted with horror as several gasps of panic and distress filtered loudly through the crowd. As everyone nearby gathered around to try and help the screaming alien, Rick slid easily into the Roy 2 seat and placed the virtual reality helmet on top of his head, locking him into the game.

Roy 2 began much as Roy 1….except Roy 2 was Roy Jr., who now only had one parent: his mother, and had to look after his other siblings, while keeping things running consistently at the carpet store. Rick quickly ditched the carpet store leaving one of his other siblings-a boy Morty's age, a bit past fifteen-involved, and went for a wild excursion in the Amazon. He was not expecting the snake to pop of nowhere and sink into his ankle, oozing poisonous venom into his veins:

POW!

The hungry cobra suddenly disappeared and Rick was tossed instantly back into the real world of Blips and Chitz, saved from certain death by the fist of an angry looking alien that had the head of a giraffe and the body of a baboon, sending him spiraling out and onto the floor. "What the hell gives you the right?!" shouted the enraged alien, as Rick, momentarily dizzied from the reality switch, glowered vengefully back up at his attacker. "You have NO RIGHT to force someone off like that!" shouted the alien as he towered over Rick.

"Ah. You've seen me play and wish you had the guts to do what I do, right? Bet you always stayed at the carpet store to your death," Rick sneered as he held his throbbing temple where the alien's fist had connected with his flesh, "you probably turned into one of those uber-pathetic Roys who wound up killing themselves out of boredom, overwhelmed by your pathetic excuse of a lame-ass life, am I right?"

A slimy gob of spit slingshot through the air and hit Rick square in the face. "Go fuck yourself," the alien seethed, and yelled, "Hey we got a bully over here! Thinks he's better than everyone else! How about we teach this bully a lesson?"

"Go to hell," Rick rasped as he struggled to get up from the floor. His whole body suddenly ached, which wasn't typical for him; he was a strong motherfucker, and he wasn't going to let some whiny ass alien tell him what to do.

"Bullies aren't allowed at Blips," shouted another alien that looked like a turtle with fins and a dragon's tail.

"Yeah bully! Get the hell out of our clubhouse!" shouted another.

"It's a free universe, assholes," Rick snapped as he finally got to his feet. His vision blurred and he staggered, only momentarily before he regained his composure. "The guy was doing a shit job playing Roy anyway; he was just wasting power."

"Bully!" came a shout from behind him as he turned towards the exit door.

"Get him!" screamed another, and suddenly the pounding of footsteps over carpet sent Rick into full-on escape mode as he charged for the exit, nearly blacking out from exhuastion as he finally reached the doors and-

his foot was pulled from beneath him as he was dragged backwards:

And all at once, much too fast for him to react, they were on top of him: kicking him in the side, pounding him in the face, yelling and screaming obscenities. The room was a whitish spinning blur and so was everyone in it, and Rick felt his consciousness quickly fading, and soon there was nothing but darkness closing in.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

 **Author's Note:** This one went someplace I didn't expect. I just decided to go with it.

Morty couldn't wait-he'd never been to Disney World.

"This is so awesome!" was all he could say over and over again with glee from the back of the station wagon as the Smith family finally pulled out of the driveway. They were on their way to the airport, where they would catch a big jet to Florida. It was also Morty's first time ever being on a plane and he could barely sit still.

Even Summer, who was ten at the time, couldn't hide her excitement; she was bouncing up and down. "I'm gonna finally get a chance to kiss Goofy!" she squealed, practically giddy with hysterics. "I've _always_ wanted to kiss him!"

"Ugh, _gross_ , Summer!" Morty exclaimed with disgust at his sister, but he was laughing hysterically at the idea of his sister making out with Goofy.

"Now, settle down, Kids," warned an stern but grinning Jerry from the front as he turned around in his seat to look back at them, "your mom and I need you both to be on your best behavior on this trip! I won't have a repeat of the Hamsters in Butts World incident okay?"

"Aw Dad," Morty giggled, "but those hamsters were so, uh, I dunno, so _cute_ , ya know? We couldn't help but try to take some of 'em home! Besides," he added for good measure, "they did look kinda...lonely."

"I wouldn't call it 'taking them'...it was more like you _stole_ them out of giant asses," came a snicker from his mother in the driving seat.

"BETH!" Jerry scolded but Morty could hear laughter in his father's voice so he knew that everything was okay.

Morty was enjoying reveling in the memories of their last trip, but something was gnawing at him, leaving him feeling uneasy...something he couldn't place his finger on, that just wouldn't let go. "Um…" Morty looked around the family car. "Are we uh...missing something? Did, did we remember to bring everything on, on the list, Mom?"

His mother was quiet for a second. So was his father. Even Summer was quiet, and Morty wondered for a horrible moment if, perhaps, they'd forgotten the plane tickets or, maybe-

"OH MY GOD!" his mother shouted out, "JERRY! We forgot RICK!"

 _Oh no! Rick wasn't in the car with them...how had they possibly forgotten Rick?_ Morty's stomach flipped at the shout. This was like some awful twisted version of "Home Alone", except he knew that Rick would know they left him there-probably thought they did _on purpose_.

"BETH!" Jerry was incredulous. "How could you forget your FATHER!?"

"How could I!?" Beth roared at her husband as they switched lanes, "How could RICK forget to come with us!?"

"Not like I care anyhow," Jerry snapped, "we're probably better off without him!"

"Dammit Jerry!" Beth seethed, "What do you have against my dad? You act like you hate him-why can't you ever just be nice to Rick?"

"When the hell is he ever nice to _me_?"

"Maybe he _would_ be if you'd try being nice first!"

"OR maybe your father doen't know how to be descent in the _first_ place!" Jerry barked back.

Morty watched with horror as his hopes for a nice family vacation began to crumble right before his eyes. He turned towards Summer for comfort but she was typing away on her phone, completely oblivous to whatever else was going on, as usual. Morty groaned and shut his eyes. Suddenly an idea came to him: they could just turn around and go back home, get Rick, and get a later flight! Rick had probably just overslept, having been out late as usual.

"Mom? Dad!" Morty shouted, "Wait, stop! We could just turn around and-"

"Not now Morty!" bellowed his incensed father.

"Dad! You gotta, you gotta _listen_ to me-"

"It's too late for that Morty!" Jerry cut him off.

"But Dad!"

"No buts, Morty!" Jerry had his mind made up and had turned back to face the road ahead. There was tons of congestion and they were probably going to be late for their plane anyway.

"Morty don't argue with your father!" His mother had turned around in her seat briefly to scold him, "This is no time to-"

He couldn't hear the rest of her sentence as his body suddenly jerked-hard-to the left. Then- _slam!-_ to the right-knocking his head straight into the window. Before he had a chance to react, everything became a blur as he felt he was sucked into a vacuum of motion, everything flipping and flopping all over like pancakes, and everywhere there were screams...screams of terror, pure utter terror like he'd never heard before.

And one of the screams was his own.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"NO!" Morty screamed as he lurched foward in bed. It took him a second to realize fully where he was: safe in his bed….in his _grandparents'_ house. It wasn't his bed, but at least he was alive. Or….was he? Morty pinched his arm, twice, just to be sure; it hurt, and was enough to squease the unshed tears from his eyes.

Those screams….they would follow him forever….

Morty fell back onto the mattress with exhaustion. His body was still hot and clammy with sweat, but now he was shivering as if from a fever. Reality shook him back into the room once again, and, remembering, he choked back sobs as he pressed his face deep into the pillow.

He couldn't cry like a little kid about any of this anymore. He had to be strong now-for Summer. He was all she had now. He tried not to think about Rick and the house he'd lived in all his life. _Would things ever feel normal ever again? Could he actually be a man, take care of his sister?_

The funeral-his parents' funeral-was tomorrow. Morty laughed bitterly to himself at his foolishness. _Who was he kidding?_ He had no one, not even Rick now; no one he could turn to. He'd have to face the music alone. He'd done it before Rick came into his life; he could do it now, again, without him.

XXXXXXXXX

When Rick finally came to he was surrounded by white, blinding light.

 _Funny-he'd always thought Hell would be scarier._

It sure felt like Hell. His body felt like it was on fire. Even his eyelashes screamed in pain.

"Sir?" A booming voice assaulted his ears. "Can you open your eyes for me? Sir?"

 _Nope-couldn't be Hell-nobody was_ this _polite there._

He somehow managed to pry his lids open further. A blurry figure was hovering over him.

"Good," said the voice, gentle, soothing. "Your vital signs appear to be improving."

"Wh-wh-wh…." His voice was raspy and sounded drugged.

"Don't try to talk, Sir. You're heavily sedated on morphine. You've survived quite an episode."

"Ep-ep-ep…." A strangled cough threatened to tear his esophogus and, practically choking on his own spit, Rick gave up in spite of himself. His head felt like dead weight as did the rest of him. _What the hell happened?_

"Sir we just need you to tell us your name. Do you know….who you are? You had no identification on you when you were admitted. Do you remember what happened before you were brought here?"

Loud beeping and humming. A snake poising to strike. Shouting. A spinning, rushing blur of motion. The sensation of falling. Impact. Darkness.

"R...R….R…" His tongue refused to obey him; it was like a huge, bulky foreign object in his mouth.

"Let's try a pen and paper." A pad was presented out of nowhere, along with a pen.

For a second Rick blinked at it, then somehow managed to take the pen in thumb and forfinger, and attempted to scrawl out his name: Rck Snchz. _Wait...that didn't look right…._

"Okay...do you mean " 'Rick...San-chez?" The blur still hovering over him peered down at the pad with confusion, and then back up at him questioningly. Spelling each word out letter by letter like _he_ was the idiot. It irked Rick to no end.

Everything in Rick's being wanted to scream back at him: _Well duh, you imbocile, what the hell does it_ look _like!?_ But his lips wouldn't move and his head was screaming for silence, for darkness; he only wanted to sleep.

"Mr. Sanchez, pleasure. Now you can call me Mr. Lipkins."

 _Lipkins?_ Any other time and Rick would have snorted with laughter at such a name; but laughter, right now, had the potential to kill.

"Mr. Sanchez…"

Rick groaned silently, shutting his eyes tight against the awful brightness that was tearing his skull apart, his mind screaming, _Rick! It's RICK, dammit! RICK!_

"...is there anyone, a family member, that we can contact for you?...We need to notify your next of kin to your wherabouts….if you'd please put down the names of yor emergency contact and their phone number, we can alert them of the situation."

Again the pad was presented and again he struggled with the pen. When he was done, the pad read: _Mrty. 231-4322-0932._

"Marty?" the Doctor asked, nodding. "Okay-who is he?"

Gritting his teeth Rick scratched out, _my g son._

"Your son?" Dr. Lipkins nodded again, looking pleased. Rick was too exhausted by now to argue with him; the faster Morty got there the better. He then though of something, something critical-and urged Dr. Lipkins back over with the pad, on which he added: _prtl gn._

"What is that? 'Portal gun?" Dr. Lipkins sounded even more confused than before, and Rick tried to keep his teeth from grinding themselves into a pulp. _Of all the doctors in the intergalactic hospital and he had to get the idiot._ "Okay….I don't know what you mean by that, but I'll gather that he will."

Soon footsteps could be heard retreating and a door was closed. Except for some excessive beeping, the room was quiet, and Rick was alone.

He would have fallen asleep had the doctor's question not been echoing over and over again in his brain. _Do you remember what happened before…._ There was no way he was telling that doctor he had no idea; the last thing he remembered was…..

…..cops knocking away at the door…..

…..raising his fist to hit Summer…..

….his fractured reflection in the autopsy table….

…...the soulless eyes of Beth's face, staring eternally into his own….

He couldn't remember reading anywhere that morphine made your eyes water, but then again, pain always made it easy to forget.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty"

 **Author's Note:** Eventually Rick's backstory and the current events of the story will reveal their significance to one another. Any ideas for the story are welcome and will be considered if they fit to my general idea. Thanks as always for reading and your reviews are much appreciated. Enjoy!

"When you're born you get a ticket to the freak show." -George Carlin, Comedian

"We are all freaks. Yes! Alone in our rooms at night, we are all weirdoes and outcasts and losers. That is what being a teenager is all about! Whether you admit it or not, you are all worried that the others won't accept you, that if they knew the real you, they would recoil in horror. Each of us carries with us a secret shame that we think is somehow unique…And if we are, each of us, freaks – then can't we accept what's different in each other and move on?" -James St. James, Writer ("Party Monster")

"Welcome to the freak show." - Hinder, "Freak Show"

Earth Dimension: D14o

Year: -124043 A.S. (After Sunset)

Rick Sanchez had never seen anything quite like Squanchy. He looked like a cat, but had a rat-like tail, and his fur was so horribly unkempt that, unlike most cats, it was clear he didn't make a regular habit of cleaning himself. He looked so world-worn and battered that it wouldn't have surprised Rick if he had been in that cell for years.

He'd also never seen such a display of emotion as when he unlocked Squanchy's cell. The scraggly creature burst free shouting nonsense with unabashed glee and, before Rick could protest, had thrown both arms around his waste, hugging him so tight that Rick nearly couldn't breath.

"Can't-breath-" The words somehow escaped him but just barely.

"Ah-sorry-" Squanchy giggled maniacally as he finally released his death grip and Rick stumbled backwards, trying to catch his balance. "I'm free-free-free! At last! Finally! You DID it!" Squanchy was now dancing around him in a circle, tugging and yanking and pulling, and Rick was nearly dizzy from all the commotion.

Rick just rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Yeah. Got it. You're free. What-are you?"

"Not a what-a who-Squanchy," the creature declared happily, albeit a bit breathlessly, snapping his fingers before adding matter-of-factly: "from planet Squanch."

"Planet what?" Rick stared incredulously.

"Squanch," replied Squanchy.

"And-a 'squanch' is-" Rick prompted reluctantly.

Squanchy giggled. "Well-I'd show ya-but you'd have to take off your clothes first-"

"EW! Gross!" Rick cringed as he jumped back with disgust, "No fucking way!"

"We're a very amicable species."

Rick shuddered. "I bet."

"So…." Squanchy fidgeted a bit uneasily, eyes following Rick's curiously. "...now what?"

Rick thought for a second before replying with resolve, "I'm getting us out of here."

A huge grin lit up Squanchy's face. "NOW you're thinking!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It took both of them to move the Guardian's body. Rick had watched the Guardian prepare the cryogenic coolers many times, so he knew exactly what to do. The whole time they worked, Rick felt Squanchy's eyes following his every movement. It took a careful, calculated focus to appear unaffected by Squanchy's presence. He wasn't sure what to make of this creature. He didn't understand why Squanchy would have been kept in a cell and he wasn't sure if it was his place to ask. (Since when did he care about such things anyway?) Rick didn't say a word as they kept up the pace. Once the body was inside the cooler, Rick wordlessly located the cleaning materials and they went about scrubbing the floor. When it was all done, Rick stood before the empty spot where the Gaurdian's body had once been, and sat down in that same spot.

Squanchy, watching silently, also took a seat next to him.

Rick knew Squanchy was expecting him to talk. Say….something about the Guardian, perhaps….but...what was there to say? The Guardian had done something that Rick had never expected he'd do. He'd left, without announcement; without saying goodbye….without preparing Rick for his sudden departure. He'd left without instructions. He'd left without explanation. He'd left without telling Rick more about life….about who he was….about why.

"You're thinking about him," Squanchy spoke suddenly, quietly, "aren't you?"

The question made Rick's skin crawl. Suddenly, he couldn't think at all. All he wanted to do was scream. Kick something. Smash something. Hurt something.

"Some things," Squanchy said solemnly, "some things just happen and they don't make any sense...Some things, kid, you just can't understand."

Rick shut his eyes, trying to still the quickening beat of his heart.

"...some things just happen…" Squanchy was still talking. "...and there ain't nothin' you can do about it-" He would have finished the sentence, but suddenly Rick's fingers were gripping his throat, threatening to crush his windpipe, and Squanchy was struggling to breath.

"Who-the-fuck do you think you are?" Rick hissed as he pressed dangerously into Squanchy's esophegus, "you don't know anything about him. He fucking raised me-you got it? You meant nothing to him! NOTHING, okay? NOT A GODDAMN THING!"

Shoving Squanchy away, Rick leapt back and, swinging around, shoved the nearest desk over with a loud CLANG.

"Kid! Take it easy! I didn't mean anthing by it, okay?"

"He's fucking dead! He-he fucking shot himself!" What was he even trying to say? Did it matter what he said at all? Rick paced back and forth wildly in a desperate attempt to maintain. "He, he, he just left me here. LEFT me here-to-to-to-to what? What the hell am I supposed to do with any of this?" He was acting crazy now, shouting nonsense, he knew...just a bunch of nonsense. He didn't care. In the end, none of it mattered, because the Guardian-his guide-his mentor-his everything-he was dead. The full brunt of it kicking itself in his face. "This is his, not mine," Rick fumed. "HIS, okay? HIS!" Rick slammed his hand down on the table, making Squanchy jump. "It's fucking useless to me!" he bellowed, as he kicked a chair, sending it flying across the room. Squanchy jumped out of the way, Rick not even caring if the creature got injured in the process. "What the fuck am I supposed to do now!?" Rick shouted at the ceiling, at the sky somewhere beyond the ceiling, at a God that he didn't believe in. "All I fucking know is-is-is-THIS!" he shouted, expanding his arms as if to embrace the room and everything in it. Instead, he wound up collapsing in an exhausted heap on the floor.

He couldn't move. He couldn't breath. His hands still crusted wtih dried blood. Smeared across his once pure white lab coat. The room was shrinking; everything was closing in on him.

"Kid...hey kid...calm down, okay? Calm down."

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he flicked it off, mind and heart both racing, looking around wildly, desperately for some water, as he was struggling to breath.

"Kid...listen to me." The hand returned, gripping now, firmly, and Rick felt his mind slowly zoom back into focus. He looked up to see Squanchy staring down at him. "...you're gonna be just fine, kid," said Squanchy, with a strange sense of determination and resolve in his voice that, somehow, slowed Rick's breathing down back to normal. "...just trust what you know," said his strange new companion, "and everything will just click into place."

Rick felt his lips moving, and surprised himself by a single word as Squanchy patiently waited for him to return to his senses. The word was "water."

"Sit tight kid." Squanchy quickly located the sink and snatched a cup full of nourishing clear liquid, taking it as quick to his new friend as possible. "Drink up," said Squanchy. "We got a big journey ahead of us."

"...not going," Rick rasped. "...staying right here."

"Oh no you don't," Squanchy demanded. "You my friend are taking the portal gun and we are gonna have a blast at my place." Squanchy grinned, beaming down at Rick with pride, "my friends aren't gonna believe it when they see I've found a R.I.C.K."

Rick stared bleakly back at Squanchy. "What...the hell...a 'R.I.C.K.'?"

Squanchy playfully jostled Rick with his elbow, grinning, "Don't you know how special you are, kid?"

Rick shook his head miserably. (Him? 'Special'?) "There's nothing special about me," he added hoarsely before quickly looking away. "Not true kid." Squanchy was grinning at him, to the point where Rick had to look back.

"You're the first human clone, kid," Squanchy announced with pride. "Welcome to the freak show."


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don't own "Rick and Morty". And "all that jazz".

Author's Note: Remember Abradolf Lincler?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand." -Mary Shelly, Frankenstein

Morty was not prepared to look death in the face, alone, but that was what he did the day his parents were to be put in the cold hard ground.

He sat with his sister in the front row, staring at the two caskets, trying to ignore the cold anger brewing in his gut. He wasn't there. There weren't too many people in the crowd, which only made it worse; his parents didn't seem to have many friends, although there were some there that Morty didn't recognize. He did however recognize Jacob, his grandparents' strange in-house companion whom they'd met just that past Thanksgiving (Jacob had actually, very sweetly, reached down to give both himself and his sister a hug). He was surprised to recognize some of his father's old coworkers. He even recognized one of the people from the vet hospital, Davin, who was sitting in the middle row and bawling his eyes out like a little girl. He saw some of Summer's friends sitting in the back. But Rick was nowhere to be found.

Morty tried to listen to his grandfather Leonard as he stood at the podium and gave a moving speech. He tried to make sense of the words but the sounds just seemed like nonsense words, all jumbled together and meaningless. Occasionally he would find Summer's hand gripping his, and every now and then a wretched sounding gasp or sob would escape from her throat and he wondered if he was possibly going to survive this moment without her tearing his hand from its socket, or his heart from its cavity.

He tried not to think about his parents' lifeless bodies lying there, in the two brand-new shiny coffins at the front of the room. All he could think was: Fuck you, Rick. You selfish bastard, you don't even have the descency to come to your own daughter's funeral. He knew he should be probably shedding a few tears, just like everyone else in the room; everyone was crying, it seemed, except for him. His eyes were painfully dry, and so was his throat, and he desperately needed to find himself some water. Funerals had to have an intermission, right? He wasn't sure whether he wanted to drink a glass of water or throw up his breakfast in the bathroom sink.

Halfway through the ceremony, his phone rang-and Morty, horrified, fumbled desperately to hang it up. Of all the times to get a phone call, he thought miserably, shutting the phone to vibrate. He received a text shortly after that but it didn't matter what it was.

After the ceremony he, Summer and his grandparents sat in the black limo his grandfather had hired as it took them to the cemetery. Summer sobbed with abandon into his jacket, staining it pitifully with tears. He tried to comfort her best he could but he knew that no matter what he did, it wouldn't help; their parents were dead, and it was as simple as that.

They would have a reception at his grandparents' house with food for the guests, but Morty knew he wouldn't be eating. "Why?" Summer kept on asking, shaking her head and wiping away tears. "Why?"

He recalled his own words of wisdom to her once: "Nobody exists on purpose, nobody belongs anywhere." He thought of his own decaying skeleton in the backyard. He looked at the text on his phone. It said: This is Dr. Lipkins of the Intergalactic Hospital. Your father was in a fight and is recovering from physical injury. He is in our care. We need you to come and ake him home. Morty blinked, taken aback by the words; his 'father''? Didn't they know his father had just been buried, that he was six feet underground?

Then, like a flash of lightning, it suddenly dawned on him: it was Rick the doctor had meant. Rick had been in a fight. Rick was in the hospital. Now it was all beginning to make sense: why Rick hadn't been at the funeral, or hadn't contacted him at all that day. He'd gotten in some stupid fight-probably drunk or stoned off his ass-and screwed everything up everything again, like usual.

Morty turned off the phone as the words began to blur and run together, stinging the corners of his eyes. He fought off the urge to sob and stuffed the phone deep inside his pocket, following his family silently back towards the car.

xxxxxxxx

Rick was silent for some time, to the point where Squanchy wondered if perhaps Rick hadn't even heard him. Except, when Rick finally spoke, it was very clear that he had-and it was very clear that Rick didn't believe a single word. "Okay. Enough of this bullcrap. Explain yourself. Now." Rick demanded coldly. "Becuase as far as I know-I'm the only me there is and ever was." Rick was getting a little fed up with this creature. How dare he presume to know something about when they'd never met before in his life? "Talk," Rick demanded again. He could feel the anger boiling in his gut.

"You ….really wanna know the truth?" Squanchy was watching him, albeit hesitantly, as though he was expecting Rick to explode at any second (and he wouldn't necessarily be wrong). "Because I can show you the truth."

"You can, huh?" Rick sneered back, trying to ignore the exhaustion threatening to take over his body, "then please, enlighten me, what makes you think you know all this about me? How do you know all this about me? I'll tell you what," Rick snapped, "nothing! That's what! Because you know shit about nothing. Okay? Got it? I thought so." Rick went over to the nearest sink and went about washing the dried blood off his hands.

He didn't hear Squanchy come up from behind him and Rick nearly jumped when Squanchy spoke in a surprisingly soft, though grating voice, "I know more about you, kid...than you'd want to know about yourself."

"Sure ya do." Rick was beginning to wonder about this guy's sanity. He'd been locked up in that dungeon cell for years; who knew what the quality of his senses were?

Squanchy let loose a strange, pondering whistle, and with an amused tint to his voice that irked Rick to no end, added promptly, "I know you've heard about Project Mobius."

At the title Rick froze. Project Mobius. It was only all the Guardian'd ever talked about for years, but….the strange thing was that he'd never actually said what Project Mobius was. To hear it from this strange creature's mouth gave him pause. Could he possibly….

"How the hell do you know about that?" Rick snapped.

A more than awkward silence had settled between the two, during which Squanchy shuffled back and forth looking mildly uneasy.

"Talk!" Rick didn't care if his voice was raised a notch. This was starting to bug him. Really bug him.

"I learned a lot from above." The statement came out almost a whisper. "When...when you're locked away for as long as I was kid," Squanchy said in almost a trance-like murmur, as though his mind was far away, drifting back over the blur of years, "you...you pay attention to... things….things going on around you, that...you might not otherwise care about or notice."

Rick blinked for a moment before lifting his eyes to the ceiling. He stared at the window with the wire mesh covering for a moment, before turning his gaze back to Squanchy.

Squanchy's eyes looked misted over, his voice full of remembrance, "I know everything, kid. All about the Guardian. All about you. And I know everything there is to know about Project Mobius."

Rick swallowed hard, his throat suddenly tight; it was unusually hard to swallow. "what….what about the Guardian?"

Squanchy quickly averted his eyes before answering haltingly, "You...sure you want to know?"

Rick winced at the challenge. Did he really want to know? All his life the Guardian had been a mystery. He'd taught Rick everything he knew; gave him shelter and a place to learn. He gave him the tools in order to survive. He gave him someone to look up to. The Guardian had done it all, all the while keeping himself at a safe distance. Never getting too close, or showing his true face. He rarely if ever displayed emotions, and his expressions were always hard to read; Rick had yearned time after time to ask about the Guardian's past, but he'd known better than to ever bring it up. There was one flaw: a scar, halfway up the Guardian's face, that jagged scar that connected from his higher cheekbone to his lower jaw; where had that come from? Rick had wondered, but never asked. He wondered if Squanchy knew-but that was ridiculous! Squanchy had been a prisoner of the Guardian: nothing more, nothing less.

Yet, here he was, telling Rick that all of the answers to his questions were only a question away….and Rick yearned to ask, once and for all, because if there was any connection between himself and Project Mobius, he had to know...because of how important Project Mobius had been to the Guardian….and this was the last thing that the Guardian had mentioned before….

….before…..

"Tell me." It was spoken in a hoarse whisper, and before Rick could even blink, Squanchy was walking with purpose in the direction of the bookcase along the far wall. He watched knowing what Squanchy was looking for. Knowing immediately which book Squanchy was going to select.

Squanchy returned quickly with a massive book in his hands. An old book, one that had been around for years; it was worn out and weathered, and the etching on the brown leather spine looked positively ancient. It was a wonder that it was still intact.

It was the same book that Rick had yearned to look at all those years. Here it was, in Squanchy's hands, available to him….and all he had to do was take it in his hands.

"Everything you've ever wanted to know about yourself," said Squanchy as he carefully held the book outwards towards Rick, "is here."


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

 **Author's Note:** This is my theory behind "The Council of Ricks" as seen in Ep 1x10: "Close Rick-Counters of the Rick Kind". That is, how it came into being...before the time of Morty's. (If you have your own theories, I'd love to hear them.) I figured there was something more to it than 'just' a bunch of Ricks coming together from different dimensions...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rick sat by himself in a chair in the lab. The massive ancient book that Squanchy had given him lay on a metal table nearby. Rick was watching a rat in its cage-the Guardian often kept rats for experiments-running aimlessly about in its wheel. Rick suddenly knew what that rat felt, if it could feel. Its whole purpose for existence was for experimentation. It was simply a cog in a mindless machine. Just like him. He was a cog-a gear-a copy of a blueprint, not even the original.

The book told him everything: how he was one of a million if not more, exactly like him...an experiment in artificial intelligence and human cloning that had gone completely sour. The R.I.C.K.S., initially intended to save the world from destruction; in the end, they were flawed...terribly, irrevocably flawed. Some, resorting to criminal acts, some violent, including murderous... others, completely insane; some, resorting to isolation, removing themselves completely from the rest. In the end, lives upon lives were destroyed, and the R.I.C.K.S. that aged quicker-another part of the experiment-those who couldn't seem to hold onto their sanity-immediately banded together across the dimensions, creating the "Council of Ricks": a group of highly antagonistic R.I.C.K.S whose whole goal was to rebel against anyone who crossed them.

 _It couldn't be true-_

 _...and yet, it was._

It was surreal-he saw actual pictures of R.I.C.K.s. who were fifteen like him, but whose cells had aged them to look like they were seventy; he read case studies about R.I.C.K.s whose bodies appeared to be around 80, but whose minds were still in their prepubescent phases. He learned about how stem cells were extracted from embryos in order to make carbon copies of DNA-and how the Guardian had successfully copied superhuman artificial intelligence.

Looking through the book, it was becoming more and more clear why the Guardian had resorted to suicide...the experiment had failed miserably...most of the R.I.C.K.s were insane, and were destroying the Universe across multiple dimensions.

As he read on regrettably, Rick quickly felt sick to his stomach. Thankfully Squanchy had left the room to use the facilities, and wasn't there to see him lose all the contents of his stomach in one fell swoop. He bent over and retched violently until there was nothing left. When he was done, he stood up on weakened legs and somehow made his way over to the nearest basin, and washed his mouth out with water. All the while, he was thinking: _Why had he never told me? Why wasn't I supposed to know? Why was it kept such a secret all this time?_ And, of course, two questions he never wanted to know the answer to: _Did he ever see me as an individual? Or was I just another insignificant clone, like every other R.I.C.K. there ever was?_

A thousand questions ran through his mind, none of them with any easy answers: what were the other R.I.C.K.s really like? What if he met one, and hated that R.I.C.K.? Would it be the same as hating himself? Would he and the other R.I.C.K.s get along? If so, did that mean was just as crazy as the rest of them? Why had the Gaurdian chosen to work just with him all these years? What made him so special out of all the other R.I.C.K.s? Or was it just because he'd been _there_? The thoughts made him dizzy. He leaned over and tried to close his eyes without feeling the urge to vomit yet again.

At that very second, Squanchy waltzed back into the room. He heard the footsteps come to a halt, and Squanchy said, "Guess...ya read the whole book, huh?"

"Skimmed it," Rick mumbled. He didn't really feel like talking. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do anymore. What was there to do? He could choose to either belong to the R.I.C.K.s-and be seen as just another crazy clone of himself who would hurt everyone he came into contact with-or just go gallivanting across dimensions without rhyme or reason, alone. What choice did he have? His life had been planned out for him from the get-go. He was damaged goods from the moment he was "born".

"Have any questions?" Squanchy asked nonchalantly.

"Leave me alone," Rick snapped. "Take the portal gun. Go back to your planet and leave me the fuck alone."

"So you can-uh-what?" Squanchy mused with amusement, "stay here and stew?"

"Nothing better for me out there," Rick muttered listlessly. "I'm just another asshole who's too smart for the rest of the world."

"Yeah, you've got some extra-challenging growing pains," Squanchy noted, "so what kid? Now that you know...maybe you can make a difference."

"Yeah the kind of difference that can get everyone I know killed." Rick shook his head. "I'm not exposing myself to the universe-there's already enough of me ruining everything out there, there's no point in one more."

"Maybe..." Rick winced at the painfully optimistic tone in Squanchy's voice, "maybe, kid, the Guardian knew that you were...well-"

"Don't say it-"

"-Special? Because he wouldn't just have chosen anyody, ya know," Squanchy added for good measure. "So-where's this portal gun again?"

"You seem to know everything about everything," Rick snapped. "You find it. I'm heading back upstairs."

"What-to your cell? You just gonna stay there forever?"

"Why the hell not." Rick pushed himself to his feet. His legs still felt wobbly; at the same time, like cement. "I'm sure as hell not going anywhere with you."

"Hey." Squanchy clicked his tongue against his cheek with an amusement that irked Rick to no end, "I'm not the one who did all this to you. Don't lay it all on me."

"That's right!" Rick spat, shouting in spite of himself as the rage that had been boiling just below the surface spilt over, "you didn't create a monster from a test tube-he did! I'm outta here." Dizzied by the shock he couldn't shake, Rick somehow managed to run out of the room, leaving Squanchy behind...not caring if he lost the portal gun or not. There wasn't anything out there for him anyway.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

 **Author's Note:** _Bear_ with me.

"Rick?"

A nudge to his elbow caused Rick to stir. He wanted to open his eyes, but everything hurt.

"Rick, wake up."

The voice didn't sound happy to see him, and when Rick finally managed to open his eyes, he understood why: the voice belonged to Morty, who was standing by his bedside, holding what had to be his emergency portal gun.

Rick blinked with unrestricted surprise at the boy for a moment, who looked unusually exhausted; his hair was a mess, and his face….had he been _crying_ …? Oh shit, Rick thought to himself: the funeral. It had probably been today. And he had missed it. It was becoming painfully clear that Morty was glaring at him now, and clearly hated his guts. Well, that would be both of them, he admitted to himself sadly; he didn't expect anything less.

Rick averted his eyes from his grandson. "Listen, Morty-"

"S-save it, Rick," Morty cut him off bitterly. "Let's just, just get out of here, alright? My sister doesn't even know I left the house. Let's go."

Rick winced as he struggled to sit up in bed, grimacing as he touched the bandages on his temple. "I gotta make sure I get some painkillers first….those dirtbags really did a number on my head."

Morty froze in place, trembling from rage, before whirling around and shouting in spite of himself. "Serves you right!" he bit back a bit more harshly than he'd intended, "you were probably a huge d-d-d-dick to them like you are t-t-t-to everybody, right? Well, I'm glad they beat you up!" To his own horror, Morty burst into tears, and swung around from Rick, his face burning with embarrassment.

"Hey!" Rick swung himself out of the bed, snatching his clothes as he did so. "Who do you think you, you're talking to, huh? Jeesus, kid, will you get a grip-"

"No YOU get a grip! I'm s-so s-s-s-sick of your crap, Rick!" Morty managed to shout through his tears. "You-you _missed_ their _funeral_! You, y-y-y-you selfish sonofabitch!" Morty was close to hyperventilating, he had never felt so angry before in his life. "A-a-all you care about is _yourself_!"

Rick held up his hands in a truce, glancing nervously at the door, "Hey kid now take it easy-"

"No, I WON'T take it easy!" Morty shouted, "you have no right!"

"Morty-now just calm down-" He was about to sneak the portal gun out of Morty's hand when suddenly an explosion of pain sent him hurtling backwards into the bed, and Rick saw stars.

"THAT'S for my mom and dad!" Morty exploded, his whole body still shaking uncontrollably as he retracted his fist. "Now-come with me!" Before Rick knew what was happening, Morty had yanked a dazed Rick through the portal, taking them home.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Winston sat alone in Rick's cell, wondering why the boy was hugging himself in a fetal position in the corner. He'd been lying there for at least over an hour now, in tears.

He had never seen the young man cry before. Losing the Guardian, it seemed, had broken the poor boy's heart.

Well….he'd just have to comfort Rick then, in the best way he knew how….

…he'd send out signals of love through the ether. Hopefully the boy would understand; would know that the Guardian had never meant to leave him in this way. He'd been programmed specifically to emit transmissions of love to whoever held him, or was near him. Hopefully this would be enough to sooth the young man's pain….even if it was but only for a moment.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Summer heard the door open and close in the middle of the night, she'd stolen from bed and had found Morty sneaking off into the darkness. Without a second thought, she followed him. She followed him all the way across town to their house.

Through the open crack in the garage door, she watched, partially with horror and partially with awe, as Morty found a portal gun and, as though he'd done this many times before, opened a portal against the garage wall.

Before she could run in and stop him he was gone-to where, she had one horrifying thought: he was probably going to another dimension where their parents were. Summer was amazed that he would leave her behind, without even saying goodbye...but then again, that was Morty; on the outskirts, he seemed like your average everyday kid, but he was actually always full of surprises.

Summer ran to the drawer that Morty had found the portal gun in. To her surprise and relief she found yet another portal gun; apparently Rick had at least three extra pairs…(and where was Rick anyway? Clearly didn't give a damn about them, as he hadn't even been to the funeral.)

She was going to find Morty and bring him back. Summer had watched Rick use the portal a couple of times. She took the gun in her hand and, gritting her teeth and shutting her eyes, punched in a couple of coordinates, hoping for the best. C-138...it could only make sense that he'd go to the next dimension over….right?

Summer shut her eyes tight, aimed for the far right wall, and fired.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

 **Author's Note:** You might benefit from rewatching "Rick Potion # 9" before reading this chapter. Also, recall the scene in "Rixty Minutes" when Morty spoke with Summer about switching dimensions? That conversation will become more significant as the story goes on….PS: The " _Bear_ with me" comment should be noted as a mistake. Silly me, I forgot that Winston was a pink elephant...not a pink teddy bear. That's what happens when I write when I've got a bad case of insomnia.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

 _ *******_ **Back on Planet Earth** _ *******_

"UGH-are you _kidding_ me, Morty!?" The world was spinning on its axis, threatening dangerously to tilt, leaving him stranded in a wasteland of his own demise. "You trying to take out my fucking eye or something you, you pathetic pissant excuse of a lunatic!?" Rick howled in unconceivable pain, doubled over in the Smith family garage as he held his stinging face. _That_ was definitely going to leave a shiner; the kid packed quite a punch. (If it had been anybody else, Rick would have been impressed-but, right now, all he could think about was the pain-as well as the unexpected bitter sting of betrayal.)

Morty stood facing the opposite direction, his back turned to him, completely silent. _Oh great_ , Rick thought with disgust. So this was Morty's idea of punishment? "Really Morty? 'The Silent Treatment'?" Rick snorted and shook his head with disgust as he rummaged around in the freezer, sifting through countless beer bottles in search of an ice pack for some much desperately needed relief. "Boy, looks like you got more of your dad's genes than I thought-" He paused as a shuddering gasp from Morty froze him in his place; the kid was shaking and sniffling. Shit-he'd mentioned Jerry-and the kid was clearly still a mess over his parents. Figures, he'd say the wrong thing at just the wrong time….

"Look, Morty-Iiiit was out of my control, okay? If it weren't for those a-holes at Blips and Chitz-" Again, he halted in his tracks-S _hit_!-In all the chaos, he'd left the ship behind back in the parking lot there. He'd have to go back and retrieve it. "Look Morty," Rick tried again with a placating shrug, "I, I know I'm an evil bastard...I get it. I'm a lousy pathetic excuse of a grandparent." He paused, searching desperately for what he thought might be the appropriate words at such a moment. "Listen-I-I need your help, OK?" he lied, inching closer and closer to his grandson and the portal gun. "Just, just come with me, I gotta get my ship at Blips...and we'll go and have some fun! All on me, OK? 'Let bygones be bygones' and all that jazz...Ya dig?"

He forced himself to remain patient as Morty sniffled a bit before turning around to face him. "F-f-f-forget it, Rick." The kid's eyes had never looked so sad; nor had he ever seen Morty look so exhausted. The kid looked like he had aged a hundred years overnight. "Y-y-y-you go it alone, okay? I'm tired. I've had it with your s-s-s-s-stupid adventures." With that, Morty slapped the portal gun into Rick's hand, before turning to go.

Rick stared down at the portal gun in his hand, and he blinked with an unexpected and unfamiliar wave of confusion: was Morty actually...giving up on him…? Was he going to have to go it alone, like he had for so many years ago…? Would he lose his one and only human shield, that had begun to feel so natural...like they had done been traveling together for years? He couldn't let that happen. Rick turned towards the garage exit and Morty's retreating back, feeling an unfamiliar sense of panic begin to grip his insides. "Mmmorty! Don't!" He shouted, and began to run towards his grandson. He was about to grab Morty's arm to stop him-when a sudden weight made impact with his back, slamming Rick down to the floor in an instant-

-and he was pinned against the floor under whatever had fallen on top of him-

-and whatever it was, was moving-it was-

-alive….

"SUMMER!?" Morty exclaimed, halting in the doorway and staring with a mixture of confusion, horror and amazement.

There, on top of his grandfather, lying in a heap on the floor, was his sister: her eyes wide with shock and staring back at him with horror. There was a dazed expression on her face….

….looking like she had never seen him before…

….looking like she had seen….

...a ghost.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"SUMMER!" Morty shouted as he ran towards his sister, blinking at her with even further confusion. "Wh-wh-what are you doing here?"

Summer, panting, looked around in a daze, eyes wild with confusion. "Where...am...I…?"

"SUMMPHER...Get-UMPFH-the hell OFF ME!" Rick finally managed to shove his granddaughter off of him. Summer toppled into a further twisted heap of her own making, remaining glued to the floor.

As soon as she saw Morty, however, Summer gasped and, suddenly finding her strength, scrambled at once to her feet. "Oh-oh my God-MORTY!?" She ran towards her brother, halting in front of him, seemingly out of breath, as though she'd ran a million miles.

The look on her face confused Morty even more; it was as though she were looking at a stranger….and…..was that a scar on her face, running from her forehead almost down her eye? "What-what hapened to your face! A-a-a-are you hurt? What happened to you? What-where did you-?" He stopped, as it had suddenly dawned on him that maybe she had followed them, and gotten hurt-and it was all because of him, it was all his fault….Gasping in shock, Morty rushed at his sister and threw his arms around her. "I-I didn't mean to scare you-I'm sorry I didn't leave a note-I was just going to get Rick-I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Summer-"

"Wait-Oh my Gosh, just wait a second-oh God, Morty-it's really-it's really _you_!" Summer pushed her brother away, but only to hold him at arms' length, and her eyes mirrored his own, reflecting his tears as they spilled over her face. "I-I thought I must be dreaming-but-is this really happening!? Am-am I really seeing you? And oh my Gosh-Grandpa Rick?! We-we thought you guys might-might be-" Before Morty could respond, Summer broke down in sobs, hugging her brother tight, so tight he could barely breath.

"Wh-wh-what do you mean?" Morty gasped as she held him, "I-of course it's me-who else would I be-"

"We-we all thought we had lost you, Morty!" Summer sobbed as she sank to the floor again, Morty kneeling down with her, his head reeling as she spoke. "When…" Summer continued haltingly, "when everything fell apart….and everyone turned into, into those horrible monsters….all my friends….everyone I knew, I-" Summer paused and gulped back sobs as she forced herself to continue, "It...it was just so scary and awful, and….and I-I _tried_ to forget about you-I didn't think I'd ever see you again!"

"Oh….shit…." Rick, watching the whole scene from behind, cringed as it began to become painfully clear what had happened. _This was the last thing he needed._

"Wha...what's she talking about, Rick?" Morty looked around wildly, his face in a daze, having forgotten all about his rage before, turning to Rick in a panic. "Did...did Summer hit her head or something? Why does she have that terrible scar? Why's she talking like this? What's _happening_ to her?"

"This...isn't our Summer," Rick explained flatly, averting his eyes from the both of them, and trying hard to ignore the nausea in the pit of his stomach. "This...is the Summer that we both left behind."


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

Morty just stared between Rick and Summer, completely speechless and flabbergasted. It was up to several seconds in f

act before he could speak. When he did, he stammered, "Wh-what the hell...are you kidding me, Rick? That-that's just crazy; how, how could that even happen-"

"Easy," Rick muttered flatly, his eyes looking even more tired than usual as he carefully observed Summer from a distance, "she somehow switched places with our Summer, who, I hate to say it Morty, is now in Chronenburg world-with my extra portal gun-which I can't afford to lose, so, we're going to have to take a little...erm...trip."

Meanwhile, Summer was looking around the garage, seeming to be absolutely mystified for some reason by her surroundings; leaving Rick to wonder if perhaps something had been dislodged from her brain during the switch. Her eyes were wide and looking all around, her mouth slack with astonishment, as though she had discovered a new alien species.

"But-b-b-b-but-" Morty was hyperventilating again, "how can I even go there, Rick!? W-w-w-w-won't they _eat_ me!? My DNA, you know? The, th-th-the _serum_ -"

"-wears off over time, Morty, so count yourself lucky-because, if you've been Chronenburg'd, there's no cure for what ails ya." Morty watched with disbelief as Rick strode nonchalantly over to Summer, who was still, it seemed, in her own little world. "Yo-Summer #2." Rick waved a hand in front of her face in an effort to get her attention. Summer blinked and, when she finally noticed Rick hovering right in front of her face, she nearly stumbled backwards. "I'm guessing that whatever encounter you and Summer #1-"

"STOP CALLING HER THAT!" Morty exploded with venom from behind him, but Rick didn't bat an eye and kept right on talking.

"must have had before you went down the rabbit hole must have been pretty, uh, awkward? Did she tell you where she was going?"

"We...uh...don't exactly have a house like you do here," Summer murmured as she slowly returned to the room, though it was clear she was still in a daze, "so...I suppose she was looking for Mom and Dad."

A significant silence as loud as the calm before the storm fell over the room. Even Rick couldn't bring himself look Summer properly in the face, and Morty had started up his whimpering again.

 _Great,_ Rick thought to himself bitterly, _she didn't go looking for Morty...she went looking for_ them _._ At this point, they'd probably have to fight tooth and nail to get her back.

"...Morty?" Summer questioned, eyes wide and looking at her brother with astonishment, "are you... _crying_? What...what's _wrong_?" Rick winced as Morty broke into sobs, holding his head in his hands, refusing to look his sister in the face.

"Th-they're d-d-dead," Morty sobbed into the palms of his hands. "They're dead, Summer."

"What?!" Summer was shouting in spite of herself; she had never seen her brother this way. It had been enough of a shock to find that he was still alive. Now, he was talking about death. She was shaking all over. "Morty-talk to me! _WHO'S_ dead!? Tell me right now: _what happened_?! Grandpa Rick, what's going on?"

Morty, it seemed, couldn't talk, so Rick forced himself to step forward towards his granddaughter, who was holding her brother as he wept like a baby, uncontrollably, onto her shoulder. Looking at the two of them, so scared and small and looking up at him, Rick halted in his tracks, wondering how he was going to even tell her. This wasn't his forte; he was not the kind of person who knew how to handle situations like this. This...this kind of thing this was _way_ out of his league.

"Morty," Rick muttered, his eyes falling to the floor with defeat, "tell her."

"I...I can't," Morty pleaded. "You-you do it."

"Rick?" Summer prompted, as she tried her best to comfort Morty by holding him and rubbing his back, "what the hell is he talking about? _Who's dead_?"

"Beth," Rick forced through his teeth, "and Jerry."

Summer's hand swayed and she nearly fell over; Morty, somehow even in his state, managed to keep her from falling to the floor. "Oh...oh my God... _are you serious_? Morty? Is he _serious_? Why- _how-_?"

"Car accident." Rick took several gulps from his flask. "Their funeral was today."

"OH-" Summer gasped, and started to cry herself as she held Morty close. As she cradled him like that-something neither Summer had ever done-her brother broke down yet again, in spite of himself. "Oh-Morty-I'm so sorry."

"And now everything's all messed up," Morty shook his head through his tears, "and it's all my fault!" He stomped on the floor with frustration, before pacing back and forth, wringing his hands with self loathing, "I should have left a note! I didn't expect she would follow me all the way over here! Oh, this is so awful! if only I had known, I would have-"

"Not your fault Morty." To Morty's surprise, Rick had laid a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder; it was an unusual as well as surprising comfort given the circumstances. "Grieving people are prone to chasing ghosts. Figures she'd choose the worst possible coordinates."

"I honestly thought I was dreaming," Summer said softly as she gently stroked Morty's head. "We built a-uh-fort of some kind to live in after, well, the house got demolished...and this _other me_ just came barging through-I wasn't sure what to think, and she was staring at me like _I_ was the weird one."

"How'd you wind up here, anyway?" Rick demanded. "Did you two have a scuffle? Was it every Summer for herself?"

"Don't joke Rick," Morty snapped. "This is serious! Summer's lost in another dimension-Mom and Dad are-" He stopped himself, afraid that the tears might start up again. Morty didn't think he could bear any more embarrassment.

"She-just kind of went-I dunno-crazy?" Summer shrugged with confusion. "She just basically hurled herself into me, grabbed me, and I guess she pushed me through the portal window, because one second I was there, the next, I wasn't."

"She does sometimes have a super human strength," Morty, whose nerves seemed to have calmed a bit, pointed out. "Right, Rick?"

"Too strong for her own good," Rick agreed, holding his palm out expectantly towards his grandson, "Morty-hand me that portal gun-we're gonna take a little trip to CB Town."


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

 **Author's Note:** Things will get a bit dark here, broh.

Morty had never seen such destruction and chaos. The world that Rick's love serum had essentially destroyed was an apocalyptic nightmare, with humans who had been turned into deranged looking creatures that looked like someone's insides had been turned inside out roaming all about, fighting with each other all over the place. The once beautiful suburban streets were now fire and brimstone, worst than the most dangerous parts of town in their dimension. Storefront windows were smashed in; garbage was strewn about everywhere in the streets. The stench of death was everywhere, and the creatures screamed and groaned as though their mere existence was killing them. No place was safe here in this dystopian underworld, where the most vile looking of creatures now populated the Earth, their previous forms now but a distant memory.

Rick, Morty and Summer #2 had arrived at the sight of the Smith family fort, hoping to find Summer #1-but only to come upon a scene that threatened to break Morty's heart completely. It was enough of a shock to see his father-alive-slouched on his heels on what had once been their meticulously groomed lawn-but it was even more of a shock to see his sister, from their dimension, lying still on the ground in front of Jerry, her eyes closed as if she were sleeping, but her skin and clothes were stained crimson with blood. Coming from Jerry was a moan that sounded inhuman. His father looked almost unrecognizable, between the unruly hair that his father had once kept as well groomed as their lawn, to the various bruises on his face, to the terrifying scar that ran across his right eyebrow. He was completely unaware of the three individuals who had happened upon him, so encapsulated was he in his own world of grief.

Baring witness to this, Morty feared he might faint. An unrestricted moan escaped from his own lips, which felt almost numb; his head felt light and dizzy, and he knew he would fall if it hadn't been for Summer-the _other_ Summer-holding him steady, supporting his back with her hands. Everything felt like it was in slow motion, time seeming to come to a complete and utter standstill-and then it suddenly dawned on him that- _here was his father_ -and it was Rick's voice, shattering his unbidden thoughts, which finally broke the spell.

" _Jerry_." Rick was standing over the man, staring down at the motionless body of his granddaughter. "Look up," Rick demanded coldly. "Snap out of it Jerry."

Jerry finally stopped sobbing long enough to look up at him through glassy eyes filled with tears that threatened to continue streaming down his face. He looked up at Rick with alarm in his eyes. "R...Rick?" Jerry choked out. "What...is that...is that really-"

"Yeah. It's me, Jerry, but is that really the point? What the hell happened to her?"

Jerry blinked and shook his head, staring down at his daughter as though he'd just noticed she was there for the first time, then, looked back up at Rick again. "Is...am I...dreaming?" asked Jerry.

"DAD!" Morty broke free and broke into a run towards his father.

"OH my GOD! What the-MORTY!?" Jerry burst into sobs and wrapped his arms around his son, who cried hard into his father's chest. "Where-what-how...?" Jerry then saw Summer standing not far away. "SUMMER?!" Jerry exclaimed, running towards his daughter with Morty, gasping with relief as they all held one another. "But-you-you're there-how are you-" 

"JERRY." Rick's unusually calm voice abruptly cut him off. Morty turned towards Rick, who was unusually quiet as he knelt down over his granddaughter's body. "Who did this?" Rick demanded, narrowing a glare at his son in law.

"Rick..." Morty was trembling as he released his father's hug, the relief at seeing his father suddenly diminishing, very quickly, as he watched Rick press his ear to Summer's chest. It began to occur what his grandfather was doing: he was searching for a pulse. "...Rick..." Morty swallowed hard as he approached his grandfather, "...she's..." Morty felt tears brimming in his eyes. "She's...gone..." Morty blurted out in spite of himself, "...isn't she?"

"Quiet Morty." Rick ordered sternly as he placed his forefinger and thumb against Summer's wrist. The girl did not stir as he did so, and Rick's heart began to sink as the seconds ticked by. "...Shit," Rick muttered under his breath, his heels sinking back in defeat to the ground.

"Rick..." Morty was shaking badly now, as he crept slowly closer and closer towards his grandfather, "...is she...dead? Is Summer...dead?"

"Shut up Morty," Rick snapped, more harshly than he'd intended. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest, and the world around him was a blur. Of course this would happen. "Jerry-who the hell did this?" Rick demanded, whirling about towards his son-in-law, whose eyes were filled with exhaustion, a mixture of grief and dread.

"...she was like this when I got here," Jerry confessed sadly. "I...imagine one of the monsters got her..."

"DAMMIT!" Rick exploded. With shaking fingers, he stood and retrieved his flask from his lab coat. _Empty._ "Dammit," he shouted, "dammit, dammit, dammit!"

"Summer..." Morty ran forward and collapsed in front of his sister's lifeless body. "Oh...Summer. _No_..."

Rick watched as his grandson's heart broke into a million pieces, as Morty sobbed helplessly as he leaned into his sister's body, curled up in a fetal position. He watched as Jerry rushed to Morty's side, and began trying desperately to comfort his son as best he could, though he was crying, too; even the other Summer was crying.

Rick backed away from the scene, feeling as though his heart might burst...perhaps he was having a heart attack...it didn't matter. Nothing did. Once again, another life was destroyed, and there wasn't a single thing he could do about it.

Before he could change his mind, Rick unearthed a portal in the ground and jumped through it, trying to ignore the sounds of his family's grief as he precariously tumbled through.


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty."

 **Author's Note:** This chapter is pretty dark, and mercifully short...and if suicidal tendencies disturb you, don't read any further.

After downing an entire spare flask, Rick paced back and forth in the garage. _She was dead...Summer was dead...all because they didn't get there in time._ A couple months ago, he might not have cared what happened to Summer...but he had gotten to know her a little, and he could no longer call her a stranger. (Except, she would have been better off if they had never met at all.) It was not lost on Rick that, if he had never created the love potion for Morty-because he was in love with that school girl-the same one that went corrupt, due to sick season, and transformed everyone into hideous monsters-Summer never would have gotten killed.

It was also not lost on Rick that Morty had just lost three members of his family in one week...and that, especially being so young, he might likely never fully recover. His grandson might find some solace in reuniting with the original Summer...but it didn't change the fact that the "new" Summer-whom Morty had bonded with for almost an entire year-was now lying dead on the ground in their original dimension, that he and Morty had run from like the cowards they were.

Like the coward he had been...and still was, because he was going to do something, now that he was alone, that he hopefully wouldn't regret. Except: he wouldn't be able to regret it, because he wouldn't be around to regret.

Rick chugged a full bottle of beer before going upstairs to the second floor bathroom. (This was where the medicine cabinet was, where his daughter had kept her antidepressents.) He tore open the cabinet, popped the cap, and stared down at the full bottle of pills. They looked so pure, so...innocent, designed to relieve the sadness that had followed his daughter while he was away. _She wouldn't need these any longer; better put them to some good use._ Resigned, Rick tilted his head back, and shut his eyes...

...but his hand shook, and he dropped the bottle. Pills scattered everywhere, all over the bathroom floor, and he lunged for the floor, scrambling to retrieve them. With trembling fingers, Rick shoved several pills into his mouth, choking them down his throat, which was painfully dry.

 _They wouldn't miss him anyway. He was toxic. Morty would-_

 _Morty would-_

 _-HATE him for doing this-_

Bracing himself, Rick swung around towards the toilet and stuck a finger deep into his esophagus, forcing vomit up his throat. He heaved several times, coughing and gagging until he was certain that all the pills were expelled from his system.

He then slid to the floor, completely spent, his throat swollen and dry, and filled with bitter taste. Any normal person might have broken down and cried their heart out by this point...but Rick Sanchez was anything but normal.

 _FUCK._ He just couldn't do that to Morty; the kid had lost enough people in one week. He didn't want to lose institutionalizing his grandson to the list of unforgivable, irretrievable mistakes he'd made. He would have to go back now, and bury his granddaughter, and try to figure everything out...

...because he was Rick Sanchez, and Rick Sanchez _always_ figured things out.

xxxxxxxxxx

Morty tried not to look at the body lying out on the ground as he sat inside the fort with "the other Summer" and his father, who he still couldn't believe was there. They were waiting for the appointed gravedigger-but Rick still hadn't returned, and Morty was beginning to wonder if he ever would.

"Where's Mom?" Morty dared himself to ask, as he sat hugging a cup of steaming hot tea that his father had heated up for him.

He froze as his father's shoulders and back grew rigid, and Summer looked quickly away; Morty was horrified to see tears in her eyes.

"Son...there's...unfortunately, something I need to tell you." Jerry took a seat next to Morty, resting the palm of his hand on his son's shoulder.

Morty looked into his father's sad and tired eyes, and knew immediately what the 'something' was. Jerry could see in his son's eyes that he knew, too, and Morty felt his eyes fill with tears once again. He couldn't believe it-first his 'new' parents, then his sister, then his original mother, too. He wasn't sure how much more he could take. "Dad..." Morty whimpered, placing his face in his hands, forcing back a sob.

Jerry held his son close to his chest for quite some time. Summer went outside to stand over the dead body of herself from another dimension. She knelt by the body and ran her hand over the other Summer's face, tracing a finger down the side of one cheek, trying desperately not to cry.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

 **Author's Note:** I had to brace myself a bit for this chapter...don't worry; they won't all be so grim! I always appreciate your reviews and for taking the time to read my stories. This has to be one of the longest (if not the longest) story I've written to date, and definitely the longest "Rick and Morty" one, for sure!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was dusk when Rick returned.

Summer's body was gone; only the stains of her blood on the ground remained. He found the body what used to be the backyard, behind the fort, lying on the grass next to Jerry, and covered by a sheet. Jerry was sweating away and almost finished with a six feet deep hole.

"How...nice of you to finally join us," Jerry grunted dryly as he heaved another mound of dirt over his shoulder.

"Where's the kid?" He didn't bat an eyelid; Rick always cut quick to the chase.

"Inside," Jerry replied as he kept digging, "sleeping."

 _That was probably the best thing to do in this case,_ Rick realized. _The kid's been through far too much already; he shouldn't have to attend two funerals in one day._

"Thanks," Rick said simply before leaving Jerry to finish the digging. Once inside the fort, he looked around the small cramped space made out of two-by-fours and other random objects, and found Morty, sitting there by himself on a small crate, staring at the wall.

"...Hey, M-Morty," Rick greeted his grandson's back, trying to sound as unconcerned as possible.

Morty didn't respond, and Rick wondered if there was even a point to talking right now, given what was going on in the backyard. "Hey...wanna go for a walk and get some ice cream? My treat," he added with as much gusto as he could measure.

"Mom's dead," said Morty.

The words, spoken so low that Rick could barely hear him. Other than those words, there was no sign of acknowledgment from Morty.

"Yeah," said Rick, glancing sharply away as a spontaneous vision of his daughter's corpse lying still on the table flashing briefly behind his eyes. "I know."

"No." It wasn't just the unusual monotone of Morty's voice that made Rick's skin crawl. It was the thin sliver of ice that coated his voice that made Rick's blood nearly run cold. "You...don't understand," said Morty softly, so softly that Rick could barely hear him, "it...happened...last year." Each word seemed to be a challenge, that made Rick's heart sink a little deeper. "She...got killed...just like...just like S-s-s-s-s..."

Morty couldn't finish the sentence as he scrunched up into a ball, putting his hands over his head, pushing his head as far deep into his lap as his face could possibly go. The sound that escaped his grandson's lips then was indefinable, as Morty rocked back and forth, his entire body trembling uncontrollably-

-and Rick felt the words, whatever words he would have said, die in his throat, and he knew right then, right there, that he had to leave-now-he had to get out of there. He couldn't stand there and watch Morty fall apart. Rick turned at once and ran out into the gathering darkness.

He ran for awhile until his throat felt so dry and parched he almost couldn't swallow. The quiet street had lead him straight into the center of town, which was a shambles; he was used to destruction and chaos, but this was one of his own making. Rick tried to ignore the groans and screams of the creatures that dragged themselves around aimlessly to and fro, searching desperately for food or water, lashing viciously out at those who would dare threaten to take anything away.

He wasn't sure where he was going, but it didn't matter; none of it did. He would keep going until there was nothing left, and he'd forgotten what he was running from.

And then, he saw it: the small, pathetic creature trapped underneath a piece of chrome and steel...it was crying desperately out for help, its eyes locked with his but for only a moment. He walked straight over to it and looked down at the creature who was crying and moaning, its amorphous looking body twisting every which way in a constant attempt to break free of its death trap.

"O-okay," Rick said urgently to the creature, "stop s-s-s-struggling! Don't move. Iiii'm much more stronger than I look." Bracing himself, he gripped either side of the bulky metal and pushed, upwards, pressing his whole upper body into the act, ignoring the trickles of sweat that instantly pooled on his forehead and trailed down his back and his sides; ignoring the creature's incessantly despondent cries for relief, and his own aching skull as he continued to push and to pry and pull at the piece of machinery that was attached to the badly disfigured vehicle.

He was almost there when, to his complete shock, a loud, eardrum splitting BANG followed by an equally loud and agonized squeal erupted from his left-and then, suddenly-all at once-there followed merely...silence. A silence so heavy that it could only mean one thing.

One quick glance to the left, and his suspicions were confirmed: the creature had sunken to the ground, motionless, eyes shut, face downwards. "...no...," Rick muttered, blinking down at the being that was no longer crying out in pain, lying in a heap of lifeless goo by his feet. All at once he let the metal drop, the heavy clank sending him to his knees on the pavement, kneeling down next to the creature he was trying his hardest to save. The creature remained where it was, as it was; the goo was beginning to slowly solidify. There was no point in telling if there was a pulse; and, even if there had been, he wouldn't have known where to look.

"Hey you!" A voice rose sharply from out of nowhere, bellowing at him from behind.

Rick froze, then slowly turned around towards the shout-a shout belonging to a voice he didn't even recognize. A strong and definably... _female_ voice.

There, standing over him, looking down was a woman-not a creature-but an _actual_ _human_. Rick's breath caught suddenly in his throat; it was suddenly hard to breath. Could this be one of his cruel fever dreams, toying with his emotions?...No, this had to be real...it was, in fact, a real live woman, simply standing there. She had pale skin and strikingly auburn-colored hair that was pointed wildly in every direction, much like his own, but incredibly unkempt. Her glowering eyes were a piercing green that left him weak in the knees. She was probably in her mid to late twenties. If this had been any other moment, Rick might have allowed himself a spontaneous gesture he would not have regretted...but this was here, and now, and it was then that Rick saw the weapon in her hands.

And it was all becoming painfully clear: she was _responsible._

 _She'd shot the helpless creature dead._

"Murderer." The word escaped his lips with venom. He turned cold eyes of vengence on the criminal standing before him. An anger he'd never felt was burning through him, threatening to tear himself apart. "You-you _murderer_!" Before she could blink, he was on top of the unsuspecting stranger, knocking her down and attempting to pummel her-but somehow, she was freakishly stronger than even him, and she was managing to hold him off. "I-I fucking almost-almost had it!" He was rambling nonsense as he struggled against her defense. "It-the thing had a chance-and you-y-y-you fucking _blew_ it!"

"Get the hell off of me-NOW!" With a force he wasn't expecting she gripped both sides of him and, using both of her feet, sent him flying in the opposite direction with an ease that, if he wasn't so incensed, might have even impressed him.

His face hit the ground, and right beside him, was her gun, a simple laser gun that even he could have made. Somehow, she had gotten lazy and let it fall from her hand in the scuffle. Scrambling for it blindly he snatched up the gun and she froze when she saw it in his hands. "Easy," she commanded him, which only made him unlock the barrel, preparing to shoot. _Dammit_ -he wasn't used to killing girls-and his stupid fingers were shaking like crazy. He stared down at the gun, then back at the woman who suddenly looked terrified of him, and then he looked back at the creature itself, lying there in a pool of its own fluids, silent.

Without saying a word, Rick looked down at himself, before slowly turning the gun towards his own head.

"Forgive me," he said to no one...

...quickly shutting his eyes.


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

 **Author's Note:** This is the first chapter that had ever actually made me cry while writing it. I found it pretty cathartic. I've been going through a lot lately and sometimes writing is the only thing that helps. That and music. And watching "Rick and Morty" of course. :)

xxxxx

"STOP! " he heard. "DON'T!"

That damn voice, it wouldn't let him be. Why could no one just let him _be_? This voice, a voice he didn't even know, was trying to stop him, take all the control away from him, but no-it had no power over him. Nothing did any longer. There was no going back.

He could feel the barrel pressing against his temple. His finger pressed against the trigger. He would have pulled it loose, had a blow to his head interrupted the act, sending the gun flying out of his hand, the world spinning dangerously and tilting on its axis. He hit the ground with a thud, and that was the last thing he remembered.

It was the last thing he remembered, until he opened his eyes and looked up, towards the sky. He was alive. How...how was he alive? Why was he alive? He wasn't supposed to be alive. He didn't deserve to be alive.

He felt a sharp sting that definitely proved he was alive. It hurt like a bitch. He howled in pain. "AGH!" He slapped at the sting but, to his amazement, a hand pushed him roughly away.

"Stay put! I'm trying to help you, you fool." There, there was that awful voice again.

Hers.

"...why...," he croaked. His throat was hoarse from exhaustion. If he had more strength he would have strangled her to death.

"For your own good," was her pat reply, as she tended to the wound she'd left when she'd knocked him out sideways.

"...don't...," he rasped, trying to reach for her wrist so he could pull it away. Again, she gently pushed him aside.

"Why in the hell would you do something like that?" It was a challenge he wasn't prepared for; didn't hardly understand. She didn't know him; why would she care? "What on Earth were you thinking?" she demanded as she continued to struggle with the antiseptic she was attempting to apply to the cut on his face where her fingers had accidently scraped away flesh.

"Fuck...you." He forced the words out as tightly with as much resentment as he could so that she would get the message.

She did. For a moment, baffled, she stared at him blankly for a couple of minutes, then realization came across her tired face, and she abruptly tossed the gauze aside with a huff.

"FINE!" she snapped bitterly as she scrambled to her feet, zipping the first aid bag she'd produced from out of nowhere back shut. "That's what I get for going out of my way these days," she muttered, scowling down at him as she wiped the dirt off her already dirty blue jeans. "You're on your own then, mister, okay? But you're sore out of luck because I'm taking my gun with me-and don't think that _thing_ you were trying to help stood a chance, by the way, because it didn't. I've seen things like this far too many times to know when a case is a helpless case. And, believe me, that was a helpless case. And apparently," she added flatly with clearly emphasized annoyance, "so are you."

"Don't-don't go." He blurted the words out without even thinking, not even knowing why, and he hated himself for how weak he sounded. They weren't words he was used to using, but, nor was he used to a situation like this. The last thing he wanted was to beg to a girl, but the thought of being completely alone with himself-even for a second-was suddenly one of the most terrifying things he'd ever dreamt of. The thought of it terrified him to his very core, and Rick was not used to feeling terror. (Sure, he felt it when he was running away from crazy space aliens-but this, this was an entirely new breed of fear.)

"Hey," she said with a shrug, turning back around towards him for a second, "I don't jive well with crazies. You well established yourself as one." With that, to his horror, she abruptly turned and started to walk away.

"NO!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, scrambling blindly to his feet as he started to half-walk, half-crawl after her, "BETH! Don't go!"

He stopped at once as he heard the name uttered from his lips. _Beth_. Felt his heart break completely in two, as though someone had slashed it apart with a razor blade, blood and guts everywhere. His body suddenly had a mind of its own. He was falling, falling against his own will, and he felt himself losing the strength to hold himself upright. He was falling, falling, and he couldn't stop it from happening...just like he couldn't stop...couldn't stop...

...couldn't...

He hardly heard the sob that escaped from the depths of his soul as he sank to the ground with complete and utter despair. There was no woman any longer; she was gone, just like Beth was gone...he could hear a voice screaming as he pounded away at the pavement, as though the harder he pounded, somehow he might break through and find her there, on the other side. He hardly felt the tear of his flesh as he continued to pound and scrape at the ground until his fingers were bloodied, tarnished by his own self-hatred. Somewhere, there was someone moaning, and his face was drenched with sweat...no...this was something else...something...salty. _Tears._

 _He was crying._ But that was impossible. He couldn't cry. Crying wasn't allowed. You simply lost and moved on. Why, then, did he feel like he was drowning in his own pain? Why did he feel like he was going to choke on his own despair?

Time had stopped. He was alone. Always alone...

...or so he thought, for suddenly he felt a hand on his side, and it felt so soft and warm, and suddenly a body was there, a warm and gentle body, and he collapsed into the arms of the woman who hadn't left, but stopped him just in time, from losing everything.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

 **Author's Note:** Only a couple more chapters to go. I was worried with this chapter about keeping Rick in character...hope I've done a descent enough job? (Please let me know! Feedback is always helpful and encouraging to me as a writer.) I can't believe this story has gone on for as long as it has. I generally write my stories starting out with a general idea, but not knowing where they will go. I'm pretty sure where this one is going to end now. It's been one intense long crazy journey..and I Hope that you've all enjoyed the ride!

xxxxxxxxxx

"...are...you going to be...okay now?" the young woman asked.

They were sitting side by side together on the curb.

Much to his amazement, the young woman hadn't left: the same young woman who had appeared, it seemed, from out of nowhere, and stopped him from the unthinkable, was watching him cautiously as he abruptly pulled away from her harsh gaze, swiping angrily at tears from his eyes that he wasn't even aware were still there.

She was watching him closely, way too close, and it made him want to either scream or, at the same time, all at once just jump right out of his skin. In all honesty, he wanted to pretend she wasn't there at all, because he'd just broken down in front of a complete stranger, and her pointed stares felt like slaps of accusation instead of innocent, concerned questions. He couldn't even look her in the face. (How could he? He'd just completely fallen apart, sobbed his heart out in her arms, and he didn't even know her name.)

 _If only she knew the kind of person I was,_ he thought bitterly, _she wouldn't come anywhere near me. If only she knew that this universe is the way it is because of me...that my daughter and granddaughter are dead because of me...she would turn away and run._

Rick's eyes blurred as he tried desperately to focus on the ground in front of him. The moments ticked by, and he thought of Morty sitting back in the fort, alone, doing nothing. He thought of Jerry digging his own daughter's grave in the backyard. He thought of Abradolf Lincler, Krompombulous Michael and King Jellybean. He somehow managed to fight back the rising taste of bile down his throat.

"Mister?" The young woman was poking him with her finger, prodding him. When he didn't respond, she persisted: "I'm not leaving until you tell me you're okay."

"Fine," he snapped back coldly, "I'm okay-okay? You did the 'good sameritan', I'm still alive, so don't worry your little head-you're off the hook, and you can go." With that he pushed himself abruptly to his feet, and turned to go.

"Wait!" She was shouting with urgency at his back, and he froze at once in his tracks, turning back towards her in spite of himself.

 _What the fuck did she want? Couldn't she just leave him alone, let him go back to grieve privately-more accurately, just completely forget that this ever happened in the first place?_

She was standing but a few feet away from him, watching him with a sagging disappointment. "You're just gonna...go?"

"Like I said," he huffed, "We're, we're good here, okay? I'm not worth your time, kid. I'm outta here." Without another word he quickly swung about, silently begging the tears to stay put, he couldn't bear any more embarrassment than he'd already experienced that day.

"Look-I-I just wanted to know...your name..." The words trailed off into an awkward silence, and once again he stopped, and turned back around to face her.

This time, he looked at her-really looked at her. She was looking back at him with what appeared to be, much to his surprise, a genuine sense of complete and utter defeat. Her eyes were glistening with tears, practically mirroring his own, and almost (could it be possible?) as equally exhausted. There was an unspoken question there, begging him to answer it. For the first time in a long time, Rick Sanchez didn't know what to say.

When the silence continued and they both just kept standing there, he was forced to speak the first thought that came to his mind.

"Why does my name matter to you at all?"

This time, it was she who looked sharply away. "I...guess...I just want to know...who it is...that I saved," she said in a voice so low that he had to strain to hear her.

Rick snorted bitterly with a shake of his head. "Who said you even saved anyone?" With that he turned and started to walk briskly away in the opposite direction.

"My name is Jenna." The shout stopped him once again. Her words were like a rope that had snagged dangerously around his throat, threatening to pull him back into a swamp filled with quicksand. Frozen in place, Rick felt his heart sink. He knew this wasn't just going to go away. Her stubbornness was impressive; he knew she wasn't going to just let this go.

Suddenly he felt her hand pulling at his, and her fingers were wrapped around his own. "Please," she said in a halting, yet ever urgent-perhaps even more so-voice, "tell me yours."

 _Shit._ "Look..." Rick quickly retracted his hand and backed away, trying not to stumble over himself in the process. "...I don't travel in pairs, kid." He spoke to the horizon as he talked, knowing he was probably breaking her heart as he did so, but he didn't have the strength or the heart to care. "I'm the kind who just goes it alone. Believe me," he added softly, "it's better that way." Again, he tried to shake the image of Morty sitting alone out of his head.

"...But-you're-the only other human I've met...since..." To his surprise she was starting to sniffle. This woman who had managed to take him down single-handedly, stop himself from pulling the trigger and belted him one in the eye, seemed almost like a child, suddenly so small and helpless, and he couldn't help but look at her then.

She was shaking and had both hands over her eyes.

"Kid-hey, kid. Just, just look right over here at me."

"I'm _not_ a kid!" she shouted at him fiercely with frustration through her tears, "Stop calling me that-my name is Jenna-and I'm twenty years old!"

 _Jenna._ Why did that name sound so familiar? He didn't know, nor had he ever known, anyone with the name 'Jenna'.

"Okay-jeeze-cool it will you? Fine!" He held up his hands in a truce. "Just, just listen to me alright, will you?" He couldn't believe what he was about to do, but somehow, he couldn't stop himself. "Listen up," Rick said as he grabbed her arm and drew her towards him, just inches away from his face. She had stopped crying (finally) and looked at him, questioningly, the anger seemingly disappeared. "Listen to me," said Rick, " _carefully_."

She was, and he continued, forcing himself to look her in the eyes, declaring softly, "we're not the only ones still here."


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

Jerry stood over his daughter's freshly dug grave, mindlessly chugging back one of the many beers he'd saved since the world had gone to hell. His gaze turned towards the ramshackle fort, wondering if he should check on Morty. (Thankfully, the 'other Summer' had taken on that job for the time being, so he probably shouldn't worry too much.) Those kids were strong...and, considering what Morty had just been through, a lot stronger than he'd given his youngest credit for.

He continued to down the amber liquor, lazily scanning the horizon, making out a few distorted shadows moving about in the distance, amongst the makeshift bonfires that the creatures made in order to keep warm. (It was fall here, after all, and winter was soon to be on its way.) Jerry shivered, wrapping his arms around himself, hugging his stomach as he let his eyes take in the gathering darkness.

"Hey Jerry, look alive man." The sharp command to his right nearly made him jump right out of his skin. When he followed the order and saw who the voice belonged to- _Rick_ -he nearly fainted when he saw that the man wasn't alone. Too shocked to be angry at the man's unexcused and unforgivable absence, Jerry simply stared, jaw dropped, at the beautiful young woman standing by Rick's side.

"Oh...my God..." the woman was murmuring as she gripped his father-in-law's arm, looking just as shocked as he was, "So-it's true-he's an actual...actually a-real- _human-_!" To Jerry's amazement (and Rick's indifference), the woman, relieved, actually looked close to tears.

"Yeah, Jerry's about as human as you get," Rick muttered sourly with a roll of his eyes. "Just as self-righteous and obliviously pig-headed as the rest of the lowly human race. Except Jerry is a bit more, erm, 'mentally challenged' than most."

"HEY!" Jerry, face reddening, glowered resentfully back at Rick. "Talk about 'self-righteous'! What the hell's the matter with you?" Jerry demanded furiously of his son-in-law, who simply rolled his eyes again and shrugged. "I just lost my daughter, you asshole!" Jerry bellowed, his eyes shimmering dangerously with tears, "For crying out loud! Why can't you show a little respect?!"

"OH!" Jenna, standing beside Rick, gasped as she stared at Jerry with shock. "I'm SO sorry," Jenna stammered as she rushed forward and took Jerry's hands gently in her own, "he didn't tell me; I didn't know-"

Jerry blinked with astonishment at the strange young woman whose hands were clasping his eagerly in her own. "I...uh...who are you...?"

"Jenna." Suddenly blushing as though she'd realized she was out of place, Jenna backed away and released her hold. "I just met..." She turned back towards Rick, her face blushing yet again, "what...is your name again?"

"I didn't tell you," Rick said simply, taking his flask out of his pocket by habit, then groaning when he realized once again that it was empty of any useful contents. "And don't feel too bad. She wasn't his daughter to lose."

"What?!" Jerry exploded, tossing the shovel to the ground with a clang. "It's SUMMER! Of course she was my daughter-how dare you say otherwise?"

"Simple, Jerry," Rick reluctantly explained, ignoring Jenna's pointed stare at the freshly covered mound and shovel at her feet, "Your Summer is still alive. You have no reason or right to grieve."

Jerry's hand snaked back around the shovel, tearing it out of fresh dug Earth and wielding it up in the air, holding it dangerously towards Rick's head. "You selfish, self-involved sonofa-"

"Careful Jerry." Rick had noticed movement to his left-and, suddenly, there was Morty.

"...Dad?" Morty was questioning quietly as he carefully approached the two, his eyes wide as he took in the scene, his body almost trembling with pensive concern. "...Rick? What-what's going on? Wh-who's that?"

"Dad!" The other Summer had burst forth from the fort, running towards them. "Dad STOP! Don't do it! Please! Stop!"

"Why shouldn't I?" Jerry bit through clenched teeth as he held the shovel up at a sharper and even more dangerous angel. Rick stared upwards at the tip of the shovel that glinted in the moonlight and the light from the nearby streetlamps. "He doesn't care about us," Jerry added, his voice trembling and on the verge of complete and utter collapse, "he left us to die, Summer. He left all of us to die."

"Jerry-" Rick held up his hands trying to signify a truce. "Just-let me explain-"

"Too late for that," Jerry declared darkly, raising the shovel higher and preparing for action.

"Dad!" Morty ran forward and tugged hard on his father's hands, and Jerry, startled, dropped the shovel in the process. "Don't hurt him," Morty pleaded with his father as he held tightly onto his father's wrists, tugging as hard as he could, "please! We-we wanted to stay, but-we had to leave, Dad, because-the mutants would have eaten me if we had stayed!"

"You couldn't even leave a note?" Jerry laughed bitterly. "No, of course you couldn't-not even a _note_! You both just-just disappeared, vanished from our lives..." Jerry, completely exhausted by this point, sank to the ground and threw his arms around his son, bringing him in close.

"He-he saved my life, Dad," Morty said into Jerry's shirt, but his voice was muffled, and Jerry wouldn't loosen his hold. "I-I would have died if we stayed."

"He's a good man." It was Jenna who spoke the words, and Rick blinked, taken aback by the sincerity with which she spoke. _They'd only just met...how could she believe he was a good man? She knew nothing about him. Nothing. If only she knew..._

"Who-are you, again?" Jerry demanded suspiciously of this stranger as he wearily got back up to his feet.

"Jenna," said Jenna. "Who are you?" she asked Morty.

"I, uh, I'm Morty," Morty blushed as he held his hand out to her. "This is...um...my sister," he added haltingly as he gestured towards the other Summer, "her name's Summer. How do you know Grandpa Rick?"

"More importantly," Jerry added stiffly, "where did you even come from? You couldn't be from here. There are no other humans left except for us."

"I just got to this town a week ago," Jenna explained in a halting voice, glancing quickly away as she spoke to the darkness, "I thought I was the only one left. Then I ran into-Rick? That's your name? So-this is your family then?" Jenna looked pleased to be fully introduced, and Rick felt a slight nausea gathering steadily in the pit of his stomach.

"Yeah, now we all know each other. Glad we got all that fun stuff out of the way. Summer, Jerry, why don't you take Jenna inside and, uh, bond over some beer or something. And while you're at it, snag me one okay? Morty-" Rick turned to his grandson, who was staring down at the fresh dirt, as though he'd been hypnotized by the sight of it. "Morty," Rick declared sternly, "you're taking a walk with your good ol' grandpa."

"Wait, now come on, just a second!" Jerry blurted out, watching incensed as Rick tore Morty abruptly away from the grave. "We were going to have a burial ceremony!" Jerry exclaimed, waving at the grave as he glowered back at Rick ferociously.

"All in good time, Jerry," Rick replied simply as he continued to tug at Morty's listless arm. "All in good time." Once again he pulled hard at Morty, who was still glancing over his shoulder at the grave. "Morty!" Rick snapped. "Eyes forward-you're coming with me."


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

 **Author's Note:** Second to last chapter, broh! I have to admit, this one was immensely satisfying and, I hope, really wrapped things up nicely. (I will really miss this story...and it will probably be awhile before I write one as long as this one.) Next chapter, be prepared to find out a little more about Jenna.

xxxxxxxxx

One second, Morty was walking down the street with Rick. The next, Rick was pulling him into a poral, and suddenly he was standing in his family's garage. Disoriented, he stumbled a bit before finally gaining back his footing, and, realizing where he was, Morty's eyes widened, and panic began to quickly settle in.

"R-Rick-oh my God Rick! We can't stay here, why are we back here!?"

Instead of answering him, Rick began rummaging about mechanically around the garage, looking for something; Morty couldn't fathom possibly what.

"We-we just _left_ them back there-oh my God Rick, what are we even doing here!? Rick-I-I-I-I can't just _leave_ them like that! We just left everyone there-Rick! We gotta go back there Rick! They-they _need_ me there!" He was beginning to hyperventilate; he couldn't take much more of this. Meanwhile, Rick, it seemed, was completely ignoring him. He watched, helplessly, as Rick surfaced from one of the cabinets with a shiny new flask, which he quickly began relishing in, seemingly having completely forgotten that Morty was there.

"RICK!" Morty shouted as he ran towards his grandfather, who swayed a bit, blinking back with astonishment at his grandson as though he were looking at a ghost. "Get ahold of yourself Rick! We gotta go back there-we gotta go back!" Morty shook his grandfather, trying to snap Rick out of it.

"Dona worry little buddy," Rick slurred as he tipped some more of the flask's contents into his mouth, spilling some on his face and his lab coat in the process. "We wiUGHll, kapeesh? Jussst needed thAUGH commmpany."

"RICK! You're-you're-" Morty shook his head with disgust and disbelief. "My Dad is going to freak out if we don't come back soon!" He began to pace in desperation as Rick continued to get steadily more and more plastered. "You-you just basically kidnapped me, you, you know?! I-Oh God, what about Grandma and Grandpa Smith-they-they don't even know about-oh God, oh God Rick! I just-just don't know what to do-"

"Eaasy M-Morty," Rick intoned. "Y-you gotta just loooosen up a little. Here. Drink some a' this stuff," Rick said as he let rip a loud belch, shoving the flask haphazardly in Morty's direction, drops of liquor spilling all over the floor.

"ALCOHOL?!" Morty exploded with venom, furiously wringing his hands. Clearly Rick hadn't even noticed he was on the verge of tears. "You're bribing me with alcohol for me to go on your stupid quest!? I'm not staying here, Rick! My sister, my sister's gone, Mom and Dad are dead...I gotta go back. You gotta take me back!" Morty broke down then, weeping in spite of himself; it seemed that he couldn't hold anything back these days, especially tears.

"Liiike I said MAURGHty. Grandpa RiUGHck will make things right." Rick then proceeded to stumble dangerously out of the garage and into the house, Morty following quickly behind him.

"Wh-what are we gonna tell Grandmom and Grandpop?" Morty pleaded as his grandfather raided the fridge, downing nearly a whole carton of orange juice and tossing the empty carton in the sink with abandon.

"ProUGHbably not best to come back," Rick said solemnly as he struggled to avoid walking into the kitchen counter, missing it by mere inches. "Unless Jerry dUGHsn't mind walking around in-cognito dressed as a clown for the rest of his pathetic little life."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Morty froze, completely confused by his grandfather's statement.

"ThEUGH Jerry from this world no longer exists," Rick explained as he drowned half a beer in a matter of seconds.

Morty frowned, still confused. "I-I don't get it Rick…"

"It's like this M-Morty, if everyone thinks someone is dead...then they suddenly appear, most likely he'll be a media sensation and you can forget having a normal stupid life like everyone else."

"Oh." Morty winced, hating to think of his father needing a disguise every time he left the house.

"Here kid-" Rick was dumping beer bottles into a double duty garbage bag. "Come on, help, help me get all of this stuff in a bag, we gotta loot the place if we're not gonna stay."

"C..couldn't we just go to some normal dimension where...where both my parents and Summer are okay, and monsters don't exist?" Morty asked, with an innocent hopefulness in his eyes that made Rick wince and turn quickly away.

"Not that simple," Rick shrugged listlessly, and, upon seeing the blank look of confusion in his grandson's shimmering eyes, sighed and continued hastily, "You see M-m-m-Morty, in this dimension, your mom and dad...well…" Rick made a cutting motion across the base of his neck with one finger for emphasis (ignoring Morty's glowers of unspoken rage). "...in that dimension," Rick added reluctantly, "somehow only Jerry made it through that mess alive...and, in at least every dimesion, at least two or all three of them bit the dust, so...it's hiiiighly doubtful that there'd be any dimension where both your parents and your sister all survived."

Morty's shoulders sank, and his heart quickly followed as his eyes fell with defeat to the floor. "...Oh."

"But, but Morty," Rick added quickly as he saw the sadness return to his son's vision, "at least we have one dimension where at leat two of them survived."

"But...everything's so messed up there, Rick," Morty said with a helpless sigh, falling into one of the kitchen chairs with exhaustion. "And...what about school? And...and my other grandparents? We'd just live in Chronenburg world forever?"

In spite of the liquored haze, there was a sudden sobered intensity in his grandather's eyes. "There are much worse types of existence in the universe, Morty."

Morty looked past Rick, out the window at the street, where a woman was walking her dog, and a neighbor was getting their mail. The sky was clear and the sun was shining brightly through the clouds. It was a simple and beautiful day. Morty knew he would miss it.

"...I really miss Mom," Morty whispered, almost to no one but himself.

He turned back towards Rick-but the man was gone, and Morty heard footsteps on the stairs heading upwards. _He probably doesn't even miss her at all._

It was quite a surprise when, at least ten minutes later, Rick returned-carrying something in his arms.

"Wh...what's that, Rick?" Morty stared suspiciously, blinking with astonishment as he realized it was nothing but a stuffed animal in Rick's hands.

Rick placed the pink stuffed elephant on the kitchen table in front of Morty and said simply, "Winston."

Morty stared at the elephant; it seemed to stare right back at him. "...Win-Winston?"

Rick sat down across from Morty, the elephant between them. "Yeah. Winston. Winston," Rick told the stuffed animal, "meet my grandson, Morty."

Morty gaped at his grandfather, who was suddenly talking to pink stuffed elephants for reasons that were beyond him. _What the hell was in that flask of his? It couldn't just be plain old liquor if he was doing stuff like this._

"...Rick?" Morty questioned, "why are you talking to-"

"ThUGHs was your Mom's, Morty," Rick informed with an urgency and sincerity that surprised him. "AaaUND I want you to take care of him."

Staring first at Rick and then at the elephant itself, Morty felt his throat constrict, fearing that he might break down and cry. "...R-Really?" Morty couldn't believe his ears. "You...you're giving him to me?"

"Sure." Rick patted the elephant as though it were a cat, which Morty found very strange; his grandfather didn't often show affection for anything. "Aund Winston...you take care of my gr-grandson, Mo-MAURghty here."

Morty felt his eyes sting with tears as he gently picked the worn stuffed animal up and held it close to his chest. Suddenly, he felt a relief, and a warmth that he hadn't felt in quite some time. It was like a breath of fresh air that filled him with hope. He looked up at Rick, his grandfather, and realized suddenly that, as long as they stayed together, it could just be possible that everything would turn out…..okay.

"...Thanks, Rick." Morty smiled weakly through his tears.

Rick shrugged as though it were nothing, but Morty knew better.

"SurUGH thing, Morty."

Then together they went about the house choosing the things they would bring back with them.


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

 **Author's Note:** Last chapter before the Epilogue! As intense as it has been, this story has been one of my favorites to write. _**In this chapter**_ : A major question is answered and the stage is set for transition. Life as Rick and Morty know it will never be the same.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After awhile of scrounging, Rick went back upstairs to check on Morty.

Kid was passed out cold on his bed, covers strewn haphazardly about, Winston clutched tightly in his arms. He was snoring, but otherwise, looked more peaceful than he had been in a long time.

Rick forced the relentlessly persistent lump back down his throat and, as quietly as he could, he shut the door behind him. _Better not to disturb them._

He then proceeded to head down the secret elevator beneath the basement floor to his carefully hidden lab. _Down here, was where he'd find the good stuff._ His 'secret stash' was in here, plus he'd need his blueprints for building his next spaceship. There were extra portal guns, ray guns, laser guns galore, and these he stuffed into a few of Jerry's business duffle bags as quickly as possible. There were notes for his various top-secret experiments, as well as his scientific equipment that he packaged carefully with bubble wrap (for safe traveling).

In the bags were several things he probably didn't need. This was, of course, because Rick was delaying the inevitable: the task he should have done right away, before he lost his nerve. His fingers ducked into his right pants pocket, surprised that they were still there: the few stray strands of hair he'd managed to pluck off of Jenna's shoulder, which had landed there after their scuffle.

 _She was the only human being that existed in Chronenburg world besides the rest of the Smiths...and, if his suspicions were right..._ It couldn't be possible, though...Rick thought...could it?...The odds of it happening, they were way too unreal...it just felt too...

The old phrase "too good to be true" flashed through his head...but there wasn't really anything 'good' about the situation at all, if what he assumed was fact was, in fact, just that, fact.

Even so, it all lined up: she was twenty years old, incredibly stubborn, clearly intelligent, and her crazy unkempt spiky hair-

 _Stop it Rick-just stop it, you're wishing for the moon and the stars and everything in between and you don't even deserve to outlive your own daughter._

His fingers shook as the two images of DNA appeared on the screen: one was hers and the other, his own. Rick froze as he stared at the separate strains, a breath hitched in his throat, and the shock left him dizzy. He sat down in the first chair he could find, his eyes locked on the strain of X chromosomes for his DNA, and then the X chromosomes of Jenna's. _They matched each other_ perfectly.

His arms reached out as if of their own accord towards the monitor, his hands gripping each side as though it were her face; the monitor began to shake...and one lone tear snaked from his right eye, and slid down his cheek. This time, Rick didn't care; there was nobody here to see them. He sat back down in the chair; the tears, unbidden, kept right on coming. He let them fall.

xxxxxxxx

Summer eyed Jenna with suspicion as she walked aimlessly around the fort, admiring her father's handiwork. "You guys really did a great job on this place," she said to Summer, who was heating up some more tea.

"...Thanks," said Summer with an awkward shrug. (Who was this girl, anyway?)

"I'm...sorry about your sister," Jenna told her as she sat down on the nearby couch. It had stuffing falling out of it, and was close to falling apart completely, but she settled in with abandon, exhausted.

"Yeah...thanks, but, she...wasn't my sister." Summer quickly handed over the tea for Jenna to take. Jenna accepted gratefully, even as she watched Summer with confusion.

"But-your father said-"

"It's-a long and kind of...boring story, really," Summer added hastily as she handed Jenna a buttered piece of toast.

"Thanks-for the food and hospitality." Jenna smiled back at her (a forced smile, if ever Summer had seen one) and added cautiously, "Where...did Rick and Morty go?"

"Beats me," Summer shrugged, "they're always taking off for one place or another."

"But-aren't we having a funeral?" Jenna pointed out with a frown.

"What do you mean by 'we'?" Summer balked with annoyance, narrowing her eyes at Jenna, "I-don't even know how you met my grandfather in the first place...and you didn't even know the other S-" She stopped herself as she realized what she was saying, before adding (a bit more calmly at the sight of Jenna's hurt expression), "How...did you meet Grandpa Rick again?"

"It's a long and boring story," Jenna explained (without really explaining). She wasn't about to tell Rick's granddaughter that she'd narrowly stopped him from killing himself. "Is...your Dad...okay?" Jenna questioned with a sincere concern that surprised Summer, as she glanced towards the fort's ramshackle window. "He...shouldn't be alone right now."

"I'll go check on him," Summer vowed and stood up quickly to leave. This girl irked her; she wasn't too much older than she was, but she was a stranger, and had just shown up out of nowhere...and where on Earth was her grandfather and brother, anyway?

xxxxxxx

Morty sat up in his bed in his room, looking around the walls at his posters and his books, his toys and his computer. He'd miss his life here...it was a good life.

"...Rick...?" he called out down the hall, peering cautiously out the doorway. No answer. He hoped Rick hadn't left him completely by himself. He knew he couldn't survive that on his own.

He'd already taken a couple of his sister's books and stuffed animals (now companions for Winston). Now, he stole into his parents' bedroom, with one thing in mind. On the nightstand was a picture of both of his parents and, on his mother's, one of his mom with a prize horse. The breathtaking, gorgeously spotted Appaloosa had been a client of hers at the vet hospital; she'd performed a life-saving surgery on it, and her pride was almost palpable as she smiled brightly at the camera.

Morty carefully picked up both pictures, taking extra-special care of the one of his mother. Back inside his room, he placed them carefully together side by side in his knapsack for safe keeping. It was going to be very different in this new world, and he wanted to remember that, in this one, he was loved and cared for by two good parents who wanted only the best for their son.

 _Mom...Dad...you were the best parents I could have ever asked for..._

 _...I love you and I will always make sure that you will never-ever-be forgotten._


	27. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

 **Author's Note:**...and you thought when Summer joined in the fun, it was weird...

"...Rick? Are you sure we got, uh, everything we came back for?"

Morty eyed his grandfather questioningly as they locked up the house for the very last time. He didn't know what to make of Rick's prolonged and unusual silence. It was making him uneasy and he didn't like it one bit. (As if leaving behind all familiarity wasn't hard enough, Rick was acting weirder than usual, and it was really beginning to worry him.)

"Yeah. Sure we did, Morty," Rick muttered with marked annoyance as he hurriedly clicked the front door's lock into place and quickly pocketed the keys (Morty wondered why he'd even bother; they wouldn't come back here again).

"Um...are you sure, Rick?" Morty pressed, hoping they could stay just a bit longer. "You didn't...uh...forget anything in there...right?"

"Quit pe-pestering me, Morty!" Rick snapped back with a silencing glare as he took out the portal gun, which he fired, and a green portal materialized in front of them, waiting.

Trying to ignore the unusual worry on his grandfather's face, Morty took a longing look back at the house he'd grown up in. "What's...what's it going to be like?" he murmured-mostly to himself, but of course Rick had heard him.

"Survival of the fittest, Morty-every fleshburger for themselves," Rick answered listlessly with a half-amused snort. "Prepare yourself for a front-row seat to the end of the world," he declared with aplomb as he pulled Morty, without warning, abruptly into the hole.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Grandpa Rick!" Summer exclaimed as soon as she saw Rick heading up to the fort with Morty in tow. "where have you guys been?" She threw her arms around Morty, hugging him tight.

"Had to run a few errands." Rick seemed more interested with the fort than seeing Summer again. "Where's Jerry gone to?"

"He's...saying goodbye," Summer explained, trying to smile through her sadness. "Jenna's sitting in the back with him by..." She stopped when she saw the mournful look on her brother's face. "...I'll take Morty inside," she suggested cheerfully, "Jerry was looking for you Grandpa. He wants to talk to you."

"I'll bet." Rick groaned inwardly.

"Go ahead, R-Rick. I'll be fine," Morty said with a grateful smile to his sister. _At least I won't be all alone here._

"Here-take one of these with you," Rick said as he tossed Morty a beer. Morty cought it with one hand, and he and Summer both stared down at the bottle with shock.

"Wow! You-you really mean it?" Morty was stunned; Rick had never let him have a beer, or share any of his stuff with him for that matter.

"You can think of it as a toast," Rick declared with a simple nod in his grandson's direction, "to the other Summer."

Morty smiled warmly back at his grandfather, holding the beer up in the air. _That was as good as an explanation as any-and he would never forget her, either._ "To the other Summer," he said, and put an arm around his sister, who hugged him back, tears in her eyes as she took Rick's bags and watched their grandfather head out back around the fort and into the yard.

Jerry looked up from where he was sitting next to Jenna on the grass, as Rick came into view. Rick tried to ignore his son-in-law's "stare of death" as he surveyed the two, then the grave, and took a seat next to Jenna, without looking either one in the eyes.

"Where's Morty?" Jerry demanded coldly, his eyes narrowed darkly with suspicion.

"I killed him," Rick answered without a blink of the eye, "I chopped him up in little pieces and hid him in the walls."

"Oh my God-" Jerry gasped, turning white, but Jenna quickly shook him back to reality.

"RICK! He-he's just joking-a mean and rotten, horrible joke!" Jenna snapped, sending daggers in Rick's direction, her shock no less than Jerry's, however much more sobered.

"WHAT-you were _joking_!?" Jerry jumped to his feet, his "Oh my GOD! That-that's IT!" Jerry spewed, pacing back and forth, wringing his hands, "You're OUT of here! I WON'T tolerate this kind of behavior-and I won't have Morty subjected to it! You can leave-and this time for GOOD!"

"Jerry-wait a second," Jenna interjected quickly, "I-I know what he said was a horrible thing to say but-but you can't just throw him out on those streets like a piece of-"

"-Garbage? Is that what you were going to say?" Jerry demanded, glowering dangerously at Rick, who was looking away from them as he continued, "Because-that's what he is! He left my wife-his daughter-when she was only ten years old! Didn't even tell his wife where he was going! Then-he shows up-a whole twenty years later-and BANG! Our life is pure chaos-chaos like you wouldn't believe! You don't have any IDEA what we've been put through, thanks to this-this-this-this-mongrel-"

"-A 'mongrel' who could save your petty ass," Rick whipped around with the portal gun in front of him, a smirk on his face as he aimed to Jerry's right and fired.

Jerry cringed, expecting a hit-but then stopped, shocked, as he saw the portal opening to his right. "...your point being...?" Jerry demanded as he managed to somewhat recover.

"...This 'piece of trash' is your ticket OUT, bitches-haha!" Rick twirled around giddily as both Jerry and Jenna stared at him speechlessly.

"Is that..." Jenna gaped at the opening. "...a...can't believe I'm saying this...a-a-an actual...portal?"

"Can't believe it-she's got beauty AND brains," Rick smiled as he playfully tousled Jenna's hair (much to Jenna's astonishment), "you, my Brazen Bell of the Ball, might just become one of my new travelling partners-but we'll have to make sure that's okay with a certain someone, name rhymes with Porgy," Rick lowered his voice conspiratorially.

"What- _what_ -What in the heck is going on!?" Jerry exclaimed with his voice raised woefully to the sky. "Has-has everyone gone insane!? _Has the world gone mad_?"

"Clearly," Rick answered with a shrug, "but it doesn't have to take US down with it-we have a whole universe to explore, dawg!"

"You mean..." Jenna was gawking at him, almost unable to speak, "...other...dimensions? We...we don't have to stay here...?"

"Thaaaat's right!" Rick grinned devilishly at her, "you thought you knew existence? You haven't seen anything yet, sister-and I can give you the grand tour! You're coming with me!"

"Wait-wait! B-b-b-but, but I-" This was all that could escape Jenna's lips before the green mist swallowed her whole, pulling her into a world full of expansive and uncharted territory, filled to the brim with both danger and adventure, and the possibilities of which she never even knew existed.

THE END.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 _ **"Aaaand that's a wrap, folks!"**_

 **So, looks like Rick's going to have to build a bigger spaceship this time around, huh? (Hope Jenna enjoys intergalactic ice cream.) ;-P So, what'd you think? Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? I'd love to hear any and all reactions to this story, which was quite a process! I typically write starting with one idea, then run with it at random, not really sure exactly where I'm going...I just let the story run its course and 'speak for itself'! This one went an entirely different direction than I expected at first, and the Chronenburg aspect might have surprised me just as much as it might have for you!**

 **So, in case you missed it, Jenna is one of Rick's illegitimate offspring from one of his various random flings-a character which I might include in future stories-and if you have any ideas, please commission them...I'm all ears! It was tough, but I decided to not have Rick tell her that he was in fact her biological father, because that storyline would have been way too time consuming for this one, and I wanted to wrap this up...but I might write a sequel at some point that focuses on how Jenna settles into the fold. (Once again, any ideas, encouragement in that area, would be helpful, because I'm new to OCs and could use the help.)**

 **I really enjoyed writing this story and I really appreciate all of you taking the time to read it. For me, reviews aren't about how many I get-they're about feedback for the story and my writing in general, so that I know what I can change and make better in the future, so that you, my reader, have as satisfying an experience as possible!**

 **Thanks again for all the support, and as Rick himself would say: "and ah-** _ **waaaay**_ **we go!"**


End file.
